Snowrise
by JohnDouglas4274
Summary: Jon returns from the moment of his death at the end of A Dance With Dragons to just before A Game of Thrones, and tries to set things right. However, Murphy has plans of his own.
1. Chapter 1 - Jon I

**Author's Note: **First 30 words from George R. R. Martin's _A Dance with Dragons_

**Chapter 1 – Jon I**

When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold ... weirwood? And a voice more felt than heard, booming out through the half-sleep, saying "Now your oath is ended."

Jon came fully awake, confused. He was in a godswood, he could tell by the heart tree he was slumped near. He jumped to his feet in a practiced motion as he reached for Longclaw, but the bastard's bastard sword wasn't at his hip. In its place was a common arming sword. He drew it, and turned around him, getting his bearings. East by north-east, he saw a broken tower. The Broken Tower. He was in Winterfell. How had he traveled all the way south from the Wall overnight? But how? And why were direwolf banners flying instead of flayed men?

Jon then turned to the pond and looked in it, at his reflection. His beard was gone, and his hair was shorter than when he had gone to the Wall. So, he had awoken in the past, but how far back? He hadn't gone to the Wall yet, so Uncle Benjen was still alive. Perhaps he could still save him from the Others, but that depended on many things, some out of his control. He pursed his lips and blew the whistle that should summon Ghost, but the albino didn't appear. In his place a different sort of wolf appeared.

"There you are!" cried Arya. "Father's waiting for you; he's ready to ride to Crofters Village." Crofter's Village, why did that sound familiar? And she was alive and still here in Winterfell? Gods, how he missed Arya. Of his family, he missed her the most, as she treated him as a true sibling. The news that that Bolton bastard was to marry her had broken his resolve, and probably led to the damned mutiny. Still, that was in the past, or future, or a future that was no longer. Or had it all been a dream? Damn it! If he broke down now, he wouldn't be able to save anyone!

"Why? What business does he have there?" Jon asked, hoping for an event he recognized, while biting his lip to keep his face from betraying his emotions.  
Luckily, Arya was in high dudgeon and not paying attention, as she blurted out "Some prisoner to be judged, I think. It's unfair, Bran's getting to go, but I have to stay and learn knitting from the stupid Septa," before darting off into the Godswood.

Jon thought to himself as he strode to Father, Robb, Bran, and Theon were waiting. Prisoner. Crofters Village. The Night's Watch deserter. Today was the day they found the direwolf cubs. There was still time to save the Starks, but not much. And Theon. Had the storming of Winterfell been his idea, or had he been forced to by Lord Greyjoy? Robb might have known, in the future that would not be, but he had died at the hands of Roose bloody Bolton and the treacherous Late Lord Frey. He tried to clear his mind of all that had happened to him, and his face revealed none of the turmoil he felt.

As the Stark party rode, Jon sat in silence, devising and discarding many plans, throwing himself into strategy to keep his emotions in check. His memories of the dark future were a blessing, he was sure. But how to use them? One gambit seemed like the best option, but it would require convincing Lord Stark of his seeming prescience. What could he 'predict' that would be convincing? The raven that would arrive with word of his namesake's death, and the King wanting Father to become the new Hand. Maybe, this time, he would learn who his mother was.


	2. Chapter 2 - Eddard I

**Chapter 2 – Eddard I**

The ride to Crofters Village was no different from the other times he had ridden there, although Ned could hear a wolf howling in the distance. To the rear, he heard Jon urging his horse forward to ride alongside, and said, "Lord Stark. Is the prisoner a deserter from the Night's Watch?" His face seemed off, especially his eyes, and it looked like he was trying to hide something

Ned turned his head to face Jon, and said, "Yes. Fourth this year. Why do you ask?"

Jon's face turned white, and he said, "I had a vision of terrible things to come, and the vision started with you executing a deserter and a raven arriving with word of the death of Lord Arryn. I don't know if the dream is true, but if the raven arrives, I will be certain." The mask slipped for a moment, and Ned saw an expression of fear and hope on Jon's face.

This shocked Ned, then he, too, regained control of his emotions. "No wonder you look like you've seen an Other. Are you sure you'll remember this vision later?"

Jon swallowed, thought, and spoke. "It's not something I will forget, a long, dark nightmare of folly and treason. I do not wish to speak of what I saw until the raven arrives. But, the deserter may have run from something worse than Wildlings. Talk to him before you execute him."

With those words, Jon fell silent and his face darkened into one he had seen plenty of after Robert's Rebellion. Whatever Jon had seen had changed him.

The rest of the ride went smoothly, and the deserter was found tied to the wall of Crofters Village. Eddard ordered the deserter be removed from the wall and brought to him; he looked him in the eye and saw the look of a man who had seen something horrible and had broken. He asked him, with sad kindness in his voice, "What is your name?"

"G-g-g-gared, my lord," stammered the deserter.

"What did you see that made you flee?"

Gared shuddered for a moment, as he relived whatever horrors had broken him, and collapsed in a gibbering heap. The little sense he could make of the man was, "They come, the frozen men. They come."

Gared drew himself together and propped himself up on his knees, bowing his head forwards, and Ned removed his gloves, drew Ice, and spoke, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do sentence you to die." With that, Ned swung Ice, and the deserter's head thudded into the dirt.

As the party began the ride back to Winterfell, Robb and Jon raced off ahead, and Ned explained to Bran the importance of what he had witnessed. Suddenly, Jon rode back, his horse galloping, with something wrapped in his cloak. "Father, Bran, see what I found!" His face was filled with joy, bright joy that blotted out the darkness that had overtaken him earlier.

Jon unwrapped his cloak to reveal a white, furry, something. When Ned looked closer, it was a wolf-pup, but the size of a month-old mastiff, with eyes as red as weirwood sap. He remembered the book that Benjen had sent south, written by old Maester Aemon, about the wildlife north of The Wall, and recalled the section on direwolves. Ned swallowed and asked, "A direwolf cub?"

"Robb found five of them huddled next to their mother; the pups are alive, but the mother isn't, and I found this one nearby," Jon said before riding back to where he had come from. Ned followed him, with Bran and his pony following behind.

Across a nameless river, he found Robb sitting on the bank, with his cloak laid over something reeking of death and decay. When Ned dismounted and approached, Robb pulled the cloak away to reveal a dead direwolf bitch and five more cubs. Unlike the one Jon had, these ones were grey or black of pelt and dark of eye. Jon said, "The direwolf is the emblem of House Stark; the children of the house should raise these wolves. Here are five grey and black wolves, three male and two female, like your trueborn children. And the albino, for the naturalborn. They are meant for us."

Robb nodded his agreement, and Ned said, "Very well. But, remember they are not timid dogs to be frightened into submission with a kick, these are beasts that can tear a man to shreds. Raise them well. Do we know what killed the mother?"

Robb pointed to something protruding slightly from the neck of the mother; he tugged it out to reveal a long shard of antler skewering the wolf's throat. Jon's eyebrows narrowed, and a look of black memory flashed across his face. He would have to ask the boy what he thought it meant. Bran dismounted his pony, and Robb handed him one of the male cubs, the one with silvery fur; Robb then took the largest cub, one with smoke-grey fur and bundled him in his cloak. Ned took the remaining three cubs and wrapped them in his cloak, and the group resumed their ride back to Winterfell.


	3. Chapter 3 - Harry Strickland I

**Chapter 3 – Harry Strickland I**

Harry dreamt he stood in a courtyard with gates to three halls, each with a relief of a dragon over the doorway. One hall was of grey-blue stone, with a blue dragon inside. When he handed his sword to this dragon, a great blizzard ripped his flesh from the bone. The next hall was of white marble, with walls covered in sable and crimson banners, and held a great white dragon with green flames of madness and greed in its eyes, and, when he handed his sword to this dragon, he drowned in a great sea of green fire. The third hall was also marble, but with horse hides on the walls; this dragon was also white, but smaller than the others, and had eyes of fear and love. When he handed his sword to this dragon, a summer gale knocked him over, and he fell into a pile of drying hay.

When he awoke, he pondered what he had seen, while breaking his fast and wishing that Jon Connington were still with the company. The old exile would have unraveled the dream instantly, but the captain-general would have to make do without. When he had finished, he began reading the freshly-delivered reports and missives that had been placed on his desk.

Among them, he read rumors of a man called Griff, who looked like Jon but with blue hair, who traveled with his son, Griff, who looked like a Targaryen but with blue hair; he seemed to be following the Beggar King and his sister. "Young Griff must be the blue dragon," Harry muttered, before opening a letter from Magister Illyrio Mopatis, the retired bravo; according to the swordsman, the Beggar King was demanding an army and Mopatis had sarcastically suggested the Dothraki. Funnily enough, the ambitious bugger had taken the suggestion seriously, and was planning on marrying his younger sister to one of the Khals.

Harry stared at the missive for a minute or two, then realized that the Beggar King, Viserys Targaryen, must be the mad dragon, and the sister, Daenerys Targaryen, was the sad dragon. If his dreams were still the reliable guide they had been, both Young Griff and the Beggar King would bring only trouble to Westeros and Essos, although he did not know why Griff would bring death by ice.

Harry then walked over to his weapon stand and picked up the sword that had been passed down from one captain-general of the Golden Company since it was founded Targaryen bastards, and caressed the dragon heads of the crossguard before pulling the hand-and-a-half sword out of its sheath and admiring the ripples of the metal. Soon, he would metaphorically and literally give the sword of the Golden Company to the woman who should be queen.


	4. Chapter 4 - Jon II

**Chapter 4 – Jon Snow I**

"Father has taken the hook," thought Jon while sitting down at his desk. "Now, I have to sell the rest of my plan. Now, why did Sam say Bran was going north of the Wall?" So far, his plan had worked, but that was less due to his plan being good, and more that he had bought time with his prediction, time to plan how to convince Ned and achieve his goals. But, what were his goals, and how would he remember them?

Jon thought for a moment, unrolled a scrap of parchment, and wetted his quill. He couldn't write everything down, because someone might see it, but he had to remember his goals. After some thought, he wrote:

· Stop Others

· Prevent Five

· Lion story

· Find heritage

· Save pack

"This should be vague enough," Jon thought, before rolling the parchment up and sticking it under his mattress. Father was in the Godswood, and there should be some time before Lady Stark brought the raven's note. Enough time to rest; he hadn't gotten any rest since he had woken up in the Lord Commander's quarters several years in the future. Ghost quietly snored, wrapped in a deerskin on the foot of his bed, where Jon remembered he had slept in the future that was no more, and he slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Not surprisingly, Jon fell asleep quickly. What was surprising was the dream. He dreamt he was looking at himself from the rear, but the colours of the room were muted into shades of brown and yellow, like in the wolf dreams he had had during his time at the Wall. He heard a thumping sound approaching, and turned to look at them, but his turn was arrested by something that ensnared his body. A loud pounding noise came from the direction the thumps had come from, and he saw himself jerk upright just before he awoke. Was this what Bran was able to do with Summer? "Who is it?" Jon asked, after the person at the door knocked again.

"The raven came, as you said," his father said through the door. "Lord Arryn is dead. I would hear the rest of your vision." Sadness was dripped from the voice of the Warden of the North; grief for his second father. The kind of grief Jon had felt when news came of Ned's execution.

When Ned entered and sat on the bed, next to Ghost, Jon spoke. "It started off pleasant, with the King coming to Winterfell to appoint you Hand, but it turned dark and full of treasons. While the King's party was here, Bran fell from the Broken Tower and lost the use of his legs; we figured he had been pushed when an assassin failed to kill him. You rode south with Sansa and Arya, then I rode north with Uncle Benjen to the Wall, and none of us ever returned to Winterfell. In Kings Landing, you discovered a terrible secret, possibly the one that got Lord Arryn killed, and were killed to silence your voice, but it was too late. You had told Lord Stannis, and he spread the word that Cersei's children are not the King's. Robb called the banners, declared himself King in the North, and tried to avenge you. But, he was betrayed and killed at the Twins.

"As for me, I ranged north and found that the Wildlings were fleeing, fleeing from the Others. After Jeor Mormont died, I became Lord Commander of the Watch, decided to let the Wildlings through contingent upon their helping defend against the Others, and was betrayed by mutineers. I don't know how much of this will come to pass, but there is one other thing I remember. Before you left for Kings Landing, you told me that, when you returned, you would tell me who my mother was."

As Jon spoke, Ned's face turned into a grimace, and his grey eyes turned to stone. When the story finished, he was silent for a moment, deep in thought, while he absently rubbed his shoulder. The stone melted into fog, and he finally spoke. "Your prophecy is dark, too dark to be false. But, at least, you will not face the world not knowing who you are. Before I tell you, I have to talk with an old friend. In time, you will know who your mother is. Until then, know this: she was a noblewoman, and I am your uncle." Jon's eyes, in turn, melted into dark cloud that rained tears of joy and shock. This had all but confirmed his suspicions of who he was, and there was no sweeter feeling. He knew not what to say, save a "thank you" that he choked out before hugging the man that he had called "father" for his entire life.


	5. Chapter 5 - Eddard II

**Chapter 5 – Eddard II**

Ned hugged his nephew as he sobbed. A dam had broken, and the emotions poured forth. Ned kept his tears in check, as he pondered Jon's story. He claimed to have had just a vision, but his face had hardened overnight from a carefree boy to a battle-forged man, like he had lived out several bloody years in a matter of hours.

When Jon drew his composure together, he asked, "Why did you not tell me? Why did you lie about me? You're the paragon of honor, never lying, but you've lied ab… oh." As he spoke, Jon's eyes knit together like Sansa's needles, and he put the pieces together. "The tourney at Harrenhall."

Ned replied, "If your true heritage was known, it would shame two Great Houses, and tear our family apart. As it is, we will need all the Starks to be united in Winterfell. We should have a few months before Robert arrives; I think I can entrust you with an important mission, one I wouldn't entrust to a man outside our family. You and I will ride to White Harbor, where we will await a letter; follow the letter's instructions and bring the man you meet to Winterfell. If all goes well, you should return before the King arrives."

This brought a look of pride to Jon's face, as he had been entrusted with an important mission. He then asked, "When I go, may I bear House Stark's colors, or should I keep my identity hidden?"

Ned thought for a minute, and said, "You may bear the colors reversed, with the wolf white. Bring your wolf, and also the black one. A direwolf cub needs a mature master, and Brandon is barely mature enough as it is."

Jon then said, "Speaking of Brandon, I should have Mikken forge him some pitons, to make climbing safer for him. And a new sword for me, with a longer hilt."

As Jon strode out with a high heart and the albino at his heels, Ned sat at Jon's desk and wrote a letter to the man who would tell Jon where to go. All the Stark men needed to be in Winterfell. His sons. His brother. His nephew. And, his other nephew.


	6. Chapter 6 - Varys I

**Chapter 6 – Varys I**

Most of the messages on The Spider's desk were from his little birds, but one was a raven scroll, sealed with grey wax and a direwolf sigil, bearing "Varys" in Eddard Stark's writing. This intrigued him, as he hadn't talked with the man since … since Starfall. Why would someone as honorable as the Warden of the North correspond with the Master of Whispers? Did this have to do with the Mad King's children, one of whom was soon to marry a Dothraki horselord?

Pondering this, Varys grabbed a thin dagger and unsealed the message. Inside, the letter read:

_Varys,  
When we met many years ago, just after the war, I gave you a few gold dragons for safekeeping, not expecting to need them. With the King coming north, I need all the coin I can find and am calling in my debts. Have the gold ready for my bastard, who will be sailing south from White Harbor with all dispatch once you send word of where the gold is.  
Eddard_

Varys read the scroll several times, committing every letter to memory, before he placed it into a metal dish and poured oil onto it. Once the oil was soaked in, he lit it on fire with a tinderbox he kept handy. No, this was not about Viserys nor Daenerys, but Aegon. He remembered when he met Lord Stark in Starfall; Eddard was recovering from wounds sustained fighting the Kingsguard at the Tower of Joy, and his sister's body had been given to the Silent Sisters. Eddard's man, Howland Reed, found the Mad King's spymaster and entrusted him with a small, silver-haired bundle. Lord Reed told Varys that they had rescued the infant from the sack of Kings Landing and implored him to "keep Aegon safe, keep him secret."

The Spider snapped out of this reverie then reached for fresh parchment and wrote two messages. The first was a reply:

_Lord Stark,  
I lent the gold in question to an old friend in Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis, on the condition that he pay you back when you ask. I will send word to him to have the coins ready for your man to collect them. Have him ask "what do we say to the god of death?"  
Varys_

The second letter was to his friend:

_Fence,  
I gave you a dragon carved from weirwood for safekeeping many years ago, and the owner has paid for it handsomely. He is sending a man to retrieve it, who will ask about the Many-Faced one. Have the heirloom ready.  
Spider_

Varys rolled the first letter tightly, then tied a ribbon around it, and personally sent North it on Pycelle's fastest raven. The second scroll was sealed completely in wax and slid into a basketed bottle of cheap wine, the kind of swill he and his friend would share after a rich merchant paid Illyrio to recover an heirloom Varys had stolen. Well, Ned was reclaiming a Stark heirloom of sorts. One question looped through Varys' head: "Why does he want the boy now?"

The few who knew of Aegon had been told that he had been switched with a wench's brat shortly before the Sack of Kings Landing, but Varys knew this was not true. He had seen the bodies of Elia and her children, and the corpse of Aegon had some features that could not be faked with dye. This boy had Targaryen features, so he had figured that this Aegon was Rhaegar's son by Lyanna Stark, but he had not told anyone, even his trusted old friend Illyrio Mopatis, that. After all, the boy was most likely a bastard, and those who could vouch otherwise were dead. Targaryen loyalists would stand behind the son of the Mad King, even the daughter, but the Blackfyre rebellions had embittered them against bastards. Although, Lyanna could have told her brother what she knew.


	7. Chapter 7 - Jon III

**Chapter 7 – Jon III**

Jon had been caught by surprise by the partial revelation of his heritage, but the mission scared him. He was being asked to sail in a fortnight, scarcely enough time for a raven to fly to Lord Stark's contact and return, to an unknown place to find a cousin he had never seen and bring him back before the King's household arrived in five fortnights. If he was going to act the part of a man of House Stark this time around, he wanted to look the part of a Stark, and that meant grey and white, instead of black.

Even though he had been Lord Commander, he also remembered repairing the Old Bear's cloaks and tabards, and Jon knew his way around dyeing fabric and leather. The big difference was that Stark gray would be less forgiving than Night's Watch black, and Jon didn't know what to use to dye things grey. But, Sansa would, and he hoped that any distrust that Lady Stark had instilled in his half-sister, no, cousin could be overcome with silver; he just had to avoid thinking about her all alone in the South, surrounded by enemies and traitors…

"Watch where you're going, bastard!" yelled Sansa as the two of them rounded the same corner and knocked each other over.

Well, this wasn't the way he had been planning on meeting her, but he seized the opportunity and spoke. "I'm sorry, I was lost in thought. Lord Stark has asked me to go somewhere and bring someone back to Winterfell; he didn't say where or whom, but he wants me in reversed Stark colors. Could you please help me prepare? I have some silver, and I will need to look respectable."

The offer of coin was enough to get Sansa to give him a set of grey clothing embroidered with white direwolves, and she did so with almost as much energy as she had when she embroidered that Stag and Direwolf cloak for the royal shit. He had heard stories about the Crown Prince from the Night's Watch recruits who had hailed from Kings Landing, and none of them painted a positive picture. Even the scoundrel Janos Slynt agreed there was something wrong with him. If only he had the counsel of Alliser Thorne, but the Targaryen loyalist had no ties to anyone save the Watch, and Jon had no intent of taking the Black again.

The other thing Jon wanted was a matching bastard sword, like Longclaw but of castle steel, and dagger from Mikken. This was why he had been in the godswood for half an hour; he had been looking for a fallen bough large enough to make the hilts and scabbards for the weapons. And, Mikken had come through splendidly; Jon hefted the sword, thinking of a name for the blade, before glancing down at Ghost beside him, and settled on a name: "Wolfheart".

Wolfheart was a plain-looking sword, but deadly all the same, with a hand-and-a-half hilt of bare weirwood, a steel crossguard that was simply a rod of metal the thickness of his thumb and just sticking out from the blade by a palm on each edge. The pommel was a coin of steel with lead weights bearing the Stark Direwolf crest, and the blade was as long as his arm, two thumbs wide, and of the strongest steel Mikken had. The end of the blade tapered towards a mean-looking point that could be used to thrust through chain mail or even the bronze armor of the Thenns, if Jon ever had the misfortune of fighting one this time around. The dagger was of similar construction, with a blade one thumb wide and a hand long, and a needle-point.

Needle. Why did that word sound important? Jon couldn't recall the importance of the word "needle", and he was going to be leaving with Lord Stark and Robb, along with Jory Cassel and a couple other men-at-arms of House Stark, for White Harbor in the morning, where they would await the letter in response to Ned. Perhaps he would figure out why the word "needle" was stuck in his head.


	8. Chapter 8 - Eddard III

**Chapter 8 – Eddard III**

The ride to White Harbor went smoothly, although a couple things worried Ned. One concern he had was that Jon had been acting strangely. Before the execution of the deserter, Jon had pitched camp relatively slowly; now, he acted like a seasoned campaigner. No normal dream could instill such skills, which frightened Ned. The other was that Jon had set aside his arming sword for a bastard sword, and the way he hacked the air when practicing his swordsmanship had changed as well. Before, he swung like he was practicing with Robb, with some restraint. Now, he wielded his new sword with the same brutality Ned had wielded Ice with during the later battles of Robert's Rebellion, and this truly frightened him. How did a dream, or even a vision from the Old Gods, give Jon the skills of a hardened warrior?

When the party arrived in White Harbor, after two days' ride, Ned's party was warmly welcomed by Lord Manderly, and they settled down in the guest chambers in the New Castle. With Wyman's help, a ship had been secured to take Jon to wherever Varys had hidden Daemon. He regretted that lie, but Targaryen loyalists would be more likely to help an Aegon VI who had somehow been rescued than a Daemon Sand, born of the woman Robert's Rebellion was fought over. He still chuckled that Lya had named him after the founder of House Blackfyre, the fiercest enemies of the Targaryens. She had not gone quietly to meet the Stranger.

Ned sighed, as he leaned on the balcony overlooking White Harbor's training yard. Jon was sparring with several of the men-at-arms, facing two or three at a time and winning, when he had had trouble fighting two at once only a week ago. Something had happened to him, and he couldn't tell what. What he could tell was that Wyman's granddaughters, Wynafryd and Wylla Manderley, eyed Jon like two mastiffs and a choice morsel of mutton; he needed to find Jon a suitable match, and soon, before he noticed how many girls were ogling him. He would send letters to the Northern Houses, asking them to consider Jon once he was legitimized. And, he needed to find suitable matches for Robb and Sansa, but that could wait until after the King came to Winterfell and legitimized Jon.

After a few days, the letter from Varys came. Jon was almost ready; before he left, he had asked Wyman to secure the Godswood in the Wolf's Den, and Ned joined him there. After Jon had finished praying to the Old Gods and Ned was certain nobody was close enough to overhear, he told Jon, "You're going to Pentos, to meet with Illyrio Mopatis, a Magister there. When you meet him, after you introduce yourself, ask him 'What do we say to the god of death?' This is the pass phrase, and you will meet Daemon Sand, although he may be called Aegon Targaryen or something else to keep him safe." He thought for a moment, then added, "Also, try not to get yourself sliced up by the bravos there; keep your hand off Wolfheart's hilt, as that's a sign that you want to fight. And their style of fighting is greatly different. Be careful."

Jon hugged him, then the two of them left the prison and made their way to the docks, where Jon boarded the ship that would take him across the Narrow Sea. When Ned returned to his quarters, a stack of raven notes awaited him, bearing the seals of many houses; among them he recognized Stark of Karhold, Reed of Greywater, Umber of Last Hearth, and Mormont of Bear Island.


	9. Chapter 9 - Howland I

**Chapter 9 – Howland I**

A raven had come from White Harbor, but the message bore the direwolf of House Stark, not the mermaid of House Manderley, which puzzled Lord Reed until he opened the scroll.

_Dear friend Howland,_

_I am sending Jon to retrieve Daemon from wherever he was hidden after the war; King Robert is coming North, and he should arrive some time after Jon and Daemon. While he is here, I will ask him to legitimize Jon and Daemon. I ask of you to consider marrying Meera to one of my nephews._

_Ned_

Lord Reed thought for a moment, trying to figure who Ned meant by "Daemon", before he remembered the silver-haired bundle they had carried from the Tower of Joy. "So that's what Lya named him!" he exclaimed, before leaning back in thought. Meera was of an age with Robb, Jon, and Daemon, and all of them could be good matches for her. Or, at least Robb and Jon; he had no idea how Daemon would turn out, after many years of being told he was Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his Name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. He could be worse than his grandfather, or he could be as gentle as old Aemon. And that didn't even take into account how Robert would take finding about hidden Dragonspawn. He could very well attaint and condemn all of House Stark of Winterfell, although Ned might be able to calm the stag by finally telling him what happened in the Tower of Joy all those years ago.

Howland knew some of what happened; he had taken part in the fight, where Ice clashed against Dawn, and had watched Ned had come out of the Tower carrying heavy burdens physically and emotionally. Perhaps Lord Stark could finally relieve himself of the burden he had been carrying for four and ten years.


	10. Chapter 10 - Lyra I

**Chapter 10 – Lyra I**

Just after Mother and her sisters began breaking their fast, Maester Tiber rushed into the hall with a raven-scroll from Lord Stark. Lyra watched as Mother read it, and the She-Bear's face flashed between shock, rage, and joy, and she handed it to Dacey, who likewise looked like a pole-axed bear. Aly wrenched the note from her hands, read it, laughed, and said, "A bastard and one of you little girls? Why not?" before handing Lyra the note and breaking out into her grin. Lyra read the scroll aloud for the benefit of Jory and Lyanna, and the three of them were surprised, too.

_Lady Mormont,_

_When King Robert comes to Winterfell, I will ask him to legitimize Jon Snow. I would ask you to consider a marriage alliance between Jon and one of your younger daughters; if you are interested, please come to Winterfell in three months' time._

_Eddard Stark, Warden of the North_

Lyra looked at the letter in disbelief; she had not been expecting to be married to someone as important as the Bastard of Winterfell, let alone a Stark. In fact, she had been considering joining Aly on her next bear raid along the north shore of the Bay of Ice to take a "bear", as their mother had done in the past.

Mother thought for a moment, then said, "I would rather not leave Bear Island during this raiding season. Dacey, when the time comes, I will appoint you my representative for the purposes of treating with Lord Stark on the matter of his son. My brother will want to hear of this."

After this, the talk at the table was livelier and bordering on bawdy, as Dacey, bordering on spinsterhood, contemplated joining her sister in taking a Stark by marrying Robb, or at least having him as a bear, before Jory punched her in the arm, and told her to "Keep your paws off him, you old sow! Lord Stark don't want his son to be no bear consort!"

"Wow," Lyra thought. "Black wings, black tidings my arse!"


	11. Chapter 11 - Griff I

**Chapter 11 – Griff I**

Griff rose with the sun; his adopted son was still sleeping, exhausted from his lessons in the arakh from their travelling companion, the Dothraki sellsword Jaren, the previous night. As he looked, the boy awoke with a start. For a moment, his eyes were pure white, then they darkened to their usual midnight purple. He asked what the boy had seen that had frightened him, expecting a terrible nightmare, or a vision of a horrible future.

Young Griff leaned forward, grabbing his upper arms, then spoke, "I dreamed I was in a crate with a wolf cub as white as a cloud and as large as I was, with eyes like blood, but the wolf did not frighten me. It nuzzled against me and howled. As I lay there, frightened, I looked to my right and saw a black wolf's paw, with sharp claws, and to the left was the same. I was a black wolf, in a crate with a white wolf, aboard a ship. What does this mean?"

Griff stared into the sky for a moment, then said "I have no idea. All I know is that there is magic in your blood, a gift from your mother."

After they broke camp and continued on their journey from Pentos to Myr, they heard a messenger riding furiously along the road. When he saw their party, he dismounted and delivered an urgent missive to Griff from Illyrio: apparently, a Targaryen loyalist was coming to retrieve the boy, and would be in Pentos soon. He considered telling the boy the truth but decided that Magister Mopatis would do a better job. "He might as well enjoy a few more days of innocence," Griff thought, "before we rip his heart out with the awful truth."

He asked the messenger if he had heard any new news, and he said that the Golden Company was coming to Pentos to attend the wedding of the Dothraki horselord Khal Drogo to Daenerys Targaryen; he figured that if he was in Pentos when the wedding happened, he would attend. Griff had seen weddings in the Faith of the Seven; he had seen weddings in the faith of R'hllor, he had even, a long time ago, when he had borne another name, given away the bride in a Northern wedding in the Harrenhal godswood. But, he had never seen a Dothraki wedding; it would be a sight to see.


	12. Chapter 12 - Jon IV

**Author's Note:** I may be taking a few liberties with the timeline, but the first mention of Dany and Drogo in a non Daenerys chapter are after Bob returns to Kings Landing, so there is some flexibility baked into the OTL.

Edit: Tweaked Illyrio's description of Viserys

**Chapter 12 – Jon IV**

Crossing the Narrow Sea had been harrowing, to say the least. Most of the Winterfell men had never been on a ship, and the sudden storm that overtook them from the north, just after they entered the Narrow Sea, made the _Black Betha_ made the experience quite unpleasant, with the lurching about as the galley rode the waves southwards. On the third day of the storm, the tail of the storm passed them by, and as the sun rose on the seventh day of the trip, the lookout sighted land to the east. The captain, a man with greying brown hair and the first knuckles of his left hand missing, recognized a landmark. "We're almost there; you lot will be in Pentos this pastnoon!" Jon recognized the man by reputation and description; he had been Stannis' Hand in that other time, although they never met. The man seemed to be rougher than most lords Jon had met, but he seemed more sensible too.

As the cool of the storm passed, Jon felt the air growing hotter with every passing minute. When the _Black Betha_ entered the harbor, the noontime sun was beating down upon them like Mikken hammering a cuirass into shape; the Northmen were taking turns dunking themselves with buckets to cool down, and Jon was considering tying a rope under his shoulders and being towed behind the ship. When the ship docked, Jon changed into the lightest set of clothes he had, as did his guards, and buckled Wolfheart and the dagger onto his hip before disembarking.

Upon reaching solid ground, Jon and the Northmen saddled the rounseys they had brought with them, flew Jon's inversely-colored Stark banner, and Jon put Ghost and the black direwolf into a pair of baskets he had hung from his saddle's horn. Thus ready, they began riding to where Lord Seaworth had said Magister Mopatis' manse was, but their way was blocked by two groups of young men facing off with their sword-hands hovering over the hilts of their smallswords, smallswords like Jon had given to Arya before he had left for the Wall in that other life. "So that's what 'Needle' was referring to!" Jon thought.

Two of the men, obviously their factions' leaders, turned to face the Northmen and one asked, "Stranger, you have come at a most fortuitous time. Who is the most beautiful woman? That fool," he said as he gestured at the other leader, "and his friends claim that the Nightingale is the most beautiful, but I and my men of sight know that the Daughter of the Dusk is."

Jon thought for a minute, then said, "I have not seen either of them, but the most beautiful woman I have seen would be Dacey, the heiress of House Mormont."

This seemed to please most of the men, save for the two leaders. Both of them wanted blood, and Jon had a sinking feeling that he had drawn their ire. The leader who had vouched for the "Daughter of the Dusk" drew his smallsword and told Jon, "Dismount and face me, uncultured swine!" as the men of both factions encircled the Northmen. Ghost and the black wolf howled mournfully, and Jon swung his left leg, drew Wolfheart, and slid off his rounsey.

The Dusk's man held his sword out in his right hand with the tip towards Jon, and adopted a catlike stance, standing on the balls of his feet with knees bent and right leg forwards; Jon settled into the guard stance Ser Rodrick had taught him, with his right leg forward, the pommel of Wolfheart against his left hip, and the tip of the sword pointing over his foe's head. The Essosi laughed at Jon then lunged forwards, thrusting his sword towards his heart. Jon sidestepped the lunge by spinning to the right, and he slashed upwards with Wolfheart, cutting from hip to shoulder, as the man's momentum carried him past. The brutality of the blow frightened the men of both factions into a standstill as the Dusk's man fell to his knees in agony. He clawed for Jon's legs while begging for death, and Jon asked his name. "Trist—Tristane of Lys."

Jon finished Tristane off with a stroke of Wolfheart to his neck, then the spokesman of the Nightingale's men asked, "Who—who taught you to fight? The Dothraki?"

Jon gestured at Jory, then said, "No, his uncle, master at arms at Winterfell." He then grinned wolfishly and asked, "Who's next?" hoping that this would scatter the men. This worked, and as they carried Tristane's remains away, he picked up Tristane's sword and remounted his steed, and the Northmen continued on their way.

They finally reached the gate, and the guards, swarthy men in spiked helms, stopped them. One of them stepped forward and spoke at first in a foreign tongue, but stopped when he saw looks of confusion on the Northmen's faces. After a moment, he asked in heavily accented Common, "Who are you, and why do you come here?"

Jon replied, "I am Jon Snow, of House Stark in the North, and I have come to take custody of a family member who Magister Mopatis is currently keeping safe."

The guard listened to Jon's words, then said, "Mopatis is not here. He is with Khal Drogo of the Dothraki for his wedding to Daenerys Stormborn. Go that way, through the gate. Feast outside." He gestured down the road a ways to the gate in the city wall; when the Northmen exited the city, they were greeted by a tableau of savage revelry the likes of which all but Jon had never seen before, and this put even the wildlings' feasts to shame, with a couple hundred servants running around, bearing food and wine. The direwolf cubs' heads popped out of the basket as they smelled the scent of blood and cooked meat, and they howled hopefully.

There were three main groups of people; first and foremost were the "Dothraki", a race bronze of skin and black of hair, and there were thousands upon thousands of them. They wore leather vests, cloth trousers, and leather boots and sandals, and almost all of the men walked bowlegged, like they had just dismounted after a long horseride and had long braided hair with bells tied into the braids. They were eating, drinking, and wenching as their appetites demanded, like Tormund's men would. But, unlike the Wildlings, if two men quarreled over the same object, one of them would end up dead.

The second group was a group of mercenaries bearing banners of solid gold, and the men's armor was richly adorned; they wore bands of gold on their arms and fine jewelry. Jon stopped one of the servants, and asked who these mercenaries were, and he replied, in the same accent Mopatis' gateguards had used, "Them? They're the Golden Company. The best sellswords in Essos; their leader decided he needed to come here, and the Magisters are paying him to help keep the horselords from sacking Pentos. And them over there, what with the purple and white banner? They're the Windblown. When they heard the Golden Company was coming, they felt that it would be best if they too were present, and the Magisters are paying them, too."

Jon then asked, "Where is Magister Mopatis?" and the servant pointed, then said, "I really must get going!" and scurried off, skirting a fight that had broken out over a flask of drink.

Jon looked in the direction the servant had pointed, and realized he was looking at a great dirt ramp in the center of the festivities; when the men of Winter stood at the base, Jon saw that at the top a Dothraki man in his brutal finery and a silver-haired girl in a white gown were seated, presumably the husband and wife, being served the choicest morsels first. Below them were a silver-haired man who seemed Jon's age and half again, a Westerosi knight with greying hair and a shield with a black bear on a green field, a fat old man who looked like there was some steel to him, a man Jon's age with the same silver hair, but his hair looked faintly blue and he had a look of absolute bewilderment, and a man with greying red hair dyed blue.

As Jon dismounted and buckled Wolfheart onto his waist, the older silver-haired man noticed the direwolf banner Jory carried, drew his sword, and stormed down. The fat man and the knight followed, gesturing for the younger man to wait.

Seeing the naked steel in the hand of the angry man, Jon drew Wolfheart and the other Northmen drew their weapons; when he came within three horse-lengths, he asked, "What business do Starks have here? Are you assassins sent by the Usurper, here to try to kill me? Allies of that lying boy who Illyrio claims is Rhaegar's heir? Or are you here to bow to your rightful king?"

Jon said, "Here to retrieve a relative from Illyrio Mopatis; could you please tell me where he is, and who you are?"

The fat man arrived and placed himself between Jon and the silver-haired man of wrath; once he had separated the two, he spoke. "I am Illyrio Mopatis, one of the Magisters of Pentos. He is Viserys of House Targaryen, rightful Lord of Dragonstone. And who are you, bearing the banner of a bastard of House Stark?"

Jon looked at Illyrio, past him at Viserys, who was looking at him like he was a slug, sheathed Wolfheart, and said, "I am Jon Snow, natural son of Lord Stark of Winterfell; I was sent here to retrieve a family member you currently are keeping safe, and give him a totem of House Stark." With that, he reached into the basket and gently lifted the black cub that Rickon had called "Shaggydog" in that other life. Jon then thought for a moment, then added, "I was told to ask you 'What do we say to the god of death?'"


	13. Chapter 13 - Viserys

**Author's Note:** This chapter was hard for me to write, because I had to get into the right state of paranoia mixed with narcissism to get the POV right and do the character something resembling justice.

**Chapter 13 – Viserys I**

Things had been going so smoothly. His sister had been sold to Drogo, and today was the wedding; he had his first sworn knight, Ser Jorah Mormont, who had been wrongfully exiled by the Usurper's foster-brother, Eddard Stark; he was going to ride with the savages to their shithole of a city they called "Vice Dotruk" or some other savage name; and once his sister had been presented to some fucking crones in the shithole city of the horse-fuckers, he would finally have his fucking army and be able to seat his arse on the Iron Throne. He would festoon the Iron Throne with the heads of every firstborn male Stark, Tully, Arryn, Lannister, and Baratheon, and the second son in cases such as Eddard Stark's, as punishment for their betrayal of the Iron Throne. Except for Robert Baratheon; Viserys would use the Usurper's skull as a wine chalice. And, he would use the wives and daughters of the traitors as he saw fit. He was the rightful king, and all would learn not to wake the dragon.

But, on the dawn of Viserys' greatness, disaster had struck. Magister Mopatis arrived at Drogo's wedding an hour after he and his sister had been seated on the dirt pile the savages had erected for the important people to sit on, and he was not alone. He had brought a man Jorah vaguely recognized, Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Rest; Viserys rememberd that Aerys had taken Griffin's Rest from Jon for his failure to capture the Usurper at Stony Sept. Viserys had thought that Father might have been too harsh, but the boy that was with Lord Connington damned him beyond redemption. The fat fuck and the incompetent fool had scrounged up a fake Targaryen and were proclaiming him the true king, Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of His Name, to Viserys' face. Sure, he had the silver-gold hair of the Targaryens, and he had the nose and ears, and in sunlight his eyes were violet, but there was something wrong about him. Firstly, the bastard looked too young to be Viserys' nephew Aegon; he probably had celebrated thirteen or fourteen namedays at the most, when the true Aegon would be sixteen. Also, his face was too bloody long to be a Targaryen; he looked like a horse that one of the hide-wearing savages would mount, and his eyes turned grey in the shade.

The feasting dragged on, with Dany and her barbarian at the top of the hill, then Viserys, Lord Mormont, the Magister, Lord Connington, and the fake Aegon a level below them, in that order. He didn't mind the exiled Lord of Bear Island's presence, and Jorah might make a good Kingsguard when he took his birthright. As the time drew near for the bride-gifts to be given to his sister, Viserys noticed a grey banner being carried at the head of a small group of horsemen. When they drew closer, he saw they bore the Direwolf sigil, the fucking direwolf sigil, on their banner, and he knew that the Usurper had sent the godsdamned Starks after him. He stood, drew his sword, and strode down the hill gracefully, as befit a king, but with the speed of an avenging storm; behind him, he heard the clanking of his knight rising and following him, and the huffing and wheezing of the fat traitor doing the same, and when he reached the bottom of the hill, he challenged the Stark's men, "What business do Starks have here? Are you assassins sent by the Usurper, here to try to kill me? Allies of that lying boy who Illyrio claims is Rhaegar's heir? Or are you here to bow to your rightful king?"

The boy leading the Stark men seemed to be the same age as the false Aegon, and had the same long face, and his eyes were the same stormy grey that the imposter's were in the shade. But, this boy's eyes seemed far older than they should be, like a man of seventeen, he held a bastard sword like he had fought in a war, and his face was deadly serious; he looked like the tales of the Usurper's right-hand man during the Rebellion, Eddard Stark. One thing bothered him: why was he bearing a grey banner with a white direwolf, when the Stark banner was white with a grey wolf? The boy spoke in a dour tone that betrayed no emotion, saying, "I am here to retrieve a relative from Illyrio Mopatis; could you please tell me where he is, and who you are?"

As Viserys was about to snap at the traitor's whelp, the fat liar oozed down the hill and separated Viserys from his prey; Eddard's brother and father had started the war when they had complained about Rhaegar taking a Stark girl and demanded blood. Blood demanded blood, and the Starks would remember the motto of House Targaryen, "Fire and Blood", before they died fiery, bloody deaths. Illyrio wheedled out, "I am Illyrio Mopatis, one of the Magisters of Pentos. He is Viserys of House Targaryen, rightful Lord of Dragonstone. And who are you, bearing the banner of a bastard of House Stark?" This explained the reversed colors of the banner the boy bore; Eddard had disrespected him by sending a bastard to kill him, and not a trueborn. Or was the traitor rightfully afraid of waking the Dragon?  
The boy met Viserys' gaze, sheathed his sword in a plain scabbard of naked white wood, and said to the treacherous Magister, "I am Jon Snow, natural son of Lord Stark of Winterfell; I was sent here to retrieve a family member you currently are keeping safe, and give him a totem of House Stark." With that, he reached into a basket hanging from his saddle and extracted a black direwolf cub. A moment later, Jon Snow said, "I was told to ask you 'What do we say to the god of death?'"

Illyrio looked shocked for a moment, then said, "'Not today.' But, how is he family? The boy is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Elia of House Martell, the Sixth of his Name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!" Viserys scoffed at these lies; surely the boy didn't believe them!  
Jon said, "My lord, I was told his name was Daemon Sand, since Rhaegar did not marry the boy's mother, Lyanna of House Stark." This made more sense since his foolish minstrel of a brother could charm any woman into his bed, even after he married Ellia Martell.  
At this, the attainted Lord Connington interjected, his words freezing Viserys in place, "Oh, but they did. And he did not abduct her, nor did he do her any dishonor. After Lady Martell was warned not to bear any more children, for fear of her life, she told my silver prince that he needed to find another wife to bear the third head of the dragon. At the Tournament of Harrenhal, after Rhaegar crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty, Elia met with her, and they planned her escape from her betrothal to that whoring Baratheon and marriage to Rhaegal as his junior wife; a few moons later, Lyanna journeyed south in secret, I gave her away in the godswood of Harrenhal, and my silver prince rode south to Dorne with his wives. The rest is history," Lord Connington finished with sadness in his voice. Viserys remained frozen, and Jorah guided him back to their seats below the chief horsefucker, as did the fat shit and the abject failure. The false dragon asked the wolf bastard if they could stay for the gift-giving, and he assented; the two of them sat on the mound, near where the false dragon had been sitting before. They shouldn't have been there. They should be dead!  
The gifts began with his gifts for Dany: three slave girls who would teach her what she needed to know to get Drogo to honor his side of the bargain and conquer Westeros for Viserys. After the bloodriders and most of the guests, came a man in golden armor and bearing a golden banner, the banner of the Golden Company. He had a sheathed sword in his hands, with a scabbard of dragonbone, and a hand-and-a-half hilt of the same, with a great ruby for a pommel, and a crossguard decorated with dragon heads. He drew it, showing a blade of dark, rippled steel—Valyrian Steel—and placed it at the feet of Daenerys. Dany? This shouldn't be happening, but it was. How was this happening? He had awoken as the rightful king with numerous loyal subjects, and everything was being stripped away.

The man then said, "I, Harry Strickland, current captain-general of the Golden Company, give you Blackfyre, the ancestral longsword of House Targaryen, and the men of the Golden company. Call us, and we will stand beside you when you reclaim your throne." The fuck? The fucking nerve of Homeless Harry, to give the Golden Company to her, when he had refused to serve Viserys? He would ensure that Harry Strickland died as slow a death as possible when he became king. Or perhaps while the Khalasar rode to Vaes Dothrak.

The next gift came from an old man wearing a cloak made of shreds of fabric sewn together, and he too swore the loyalty of he and his sellswords to the wrong dragon; why were the mercenaries aligning themselves with Dany instead of the rightful king? The assholes would pay, all of them. The final insult came when the old captain's right-hand man, a Dothraki sellsword, gave his arakh to Khal Drogo, saying, "With steel of Valyria in your hand and woman of Valyria by your side, you will mount the world. You have the word of Caggo, lieutenant of the Windblown, that our company will ride with you wherever you go."

Everything that had gone wrong today could all be traced back to one thing: his sister marrying Khal Drogo. It could all be undone if she was no longer married to him. But how? The Dothraki didn't believe in divorce, so it couldn't be that way. But, as the chief horsefucker descended the hill to retrieve his gift for Dany, Viserys saw his opportunity. Drogo had Caggo's Valyrian steel arakh on his waist, but Blackfyre was sitting atop the pile of presents. So, after Dany had descended the hill, Viserys crept around to the pile of gifts and claimed the weapon that should have been given to him; when Drogo sat down atop the hill, with his bloodriders out of sight, Viserys took his opportunity, and he skewered the khal from behind like one of the goats he indubitably buggered.


	14. Chapter 14 - Jeor Mormont I

**Chapter 14 – Jeor Mormont I**

The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch sat at his desk in his tower, reading the letters and missives that had come in the night. Lord Stark of Winterfell had requested Benjen Stark, his brother and the First Ranger, be present in Winterfell in four fortnights for the arrival of King Robert. Of all the men of the Watch, Benjen had the best chance of persuading the king to send more support to the Wall. Also, Benjen had sent word by runner that Wildlings were beginning to be seen in larger groups than before, heading towards an unknown gathering point north of the Fist of the First Men and that there were more tellings of the "King beyond the Wall." Jeor suspected that this "king" was the deserter Mance Rayder, but he couldn't be certain. Perhaps Benjen could ask King Robert to send some men up to hunt down the "King beyond the Wall" and bring him to justice.

And there was a raven scroll bearing the bear sigil of his sister, Lady Mormont; apparently, Lord Stark was planning on having his bastard legitimized and was considering a betrothal between Jon and one of the Mormont girls. He looked at the charcoal-and-ink depiction of Maege and her daughters she had sent for his last name-day and smiled. A son of Eddard Stark, even a legitimized bastard, would make a good match for his nieces; the Quiet Wolf's honor was nearly unmarked, and even his mistake showed his honor: where lesser men may have acknowledged their bastards and then abandoned them or given them a pittance in support, Eddard had raised Jon like his own son. "Hmm, since the girls are going to be at the feast for the King, perhaps I should join Benjen," Jeor thought. "The Lord Commander personally asking for help might get more support than the First Ranger. And, I can hand Longclaw over to Dacey with some sort of ceremony."


	15. Chapter 15 - Jon V

**Author's Note:** Remembered that I'm posting this story here, as well as AltHist.

**Chapter 15 – Jon V**

While Drogo was watching his bride ride her new horse from atop the ramp, Jon heard a familiar slithering noise, one he had become familiar with in that life that wasn't, and one he had heard in this life: the sound of a Valyrian steel sword being drawn. Jon twisted around to find who had drawn, and he saw a flash of white hair behind Khal Drogo's left shoulder just before a foot of black steel burst forth from the center of the horselord's chest.

The dying Khal's guards, or "bloodriders" as Jon had heard them called, were all at the bottom of the ramp, watching their queen ride, and Jon knew they weren't going to be of any help; as Jon drew Wolfheart, he felt the wolf blood rising, for blood called for blood. This man was the son of Aerys Targaryen, who had murdered his grandfather and the man he figured must be his father, and his death would be at Jon's hands.

The mad prince wildly swung his sword at Jon, seeking to open him from shoulder to hip; Jon swatted it down, then slid Wolfheart up it to bind the hilts. With Blackfyre controlled, Jon moved his right hand from his sword to his dagger, drew it, and stabbed Viserys through the throat, from side to side. As Jon wrenched the dagger free, loosing bright red blood, Viserys dropped Blackfyre and clutched his throat, trying to stem the flow of blood, but Jon rendered his efforts moot by taking his head with Blackfyre, grasping the Beggar King's long hair with his left hand and raising the head high with a victorious yell.

During the next half-minute, while most were still frozen in shock, Lord Connington grabbed the scabbard of Blackfyre from where Viserys had dropped it and handed it to Jon, and Daemon tore the Valyrian steel arakh from Drogo's hip. Moments later, Drogo's widow, Daenerys Targaryen, rode back to the ramp and saw the carnage that had occurred, before she collapsed into a sobbing heap. Her tears of grief shattered the silence, and the wedding devolved swiftly into a violent free-for-all.

Jon yelled, "To me! Men of the North, to me! Form a circle!", and the Stark men-at-arms encircled the party, fending off the bloodriders who hadn't seen what had happened and assumed they were allies with Drogo's murderer. Remembering the tales he had heard of Daenarys and her dragons, Jon dismounted, ran to the pile of gifts, and retrieved the three eggs, which he put into Jory's saddlebags for safekeeping, along with Viserys' head. He needed to ask if there were a way to preserve it so he could present it to Robert when he arrived in Winterfell, since tar would render it unrecognizable.

Daemon put his wolf back into the basket on Jon's saddle, then grabbed the reins of Daenerys' horse and guided her as the Northmen and exiles rode at a gallop through the carnage. Golden Company men and the Windblown were battling the Dothraki, and the Dothraki were fighting each other as Khal Drogo's khalassar shattered into dozens of warring bands.

The band of Westerosi made it to the Pentos gate just before it closed, with only three casualties. One of the Northmen had had his steed cut from under him and broken his neck in the fall, another of the Stark men-at-arms had been slashed across the back and was barely conscious. And, Jorah Mormont had been slashed across the face with an arakh, leaving a gash from nose to cheekbone.

Once the gates had closed behind them, Jon grabbed his dagger and a nearby torch, and began heating the blade, since there was not enough time to find a master to close Edren's back with thread. He lost consciousness when the glowing dagger touched his back, but the wound was soon burnt shut, and he still drew breath. Jorah, with an obvious force of will, cauterized his wound with his own dagger, and the party resumed their ride to the docks.


	16. Chapter 16 - Young Griff I

**Chapter 16 – Young Griff I**

Today was the strangest day since the time Xaro Xhoan Daxos had swindled Father out of a month's work. Or rather, the man he had thought was his father, and that was part of the problem. He couldn't tell if this was real or a long, bizarre dream. Every day for the past week, he had woken up to dreams of wolves, and they were growing stronger as time progressed.

Then, when they had arrived at the manse of Illyrio Mopatis, the Magister greeted them not as "Griff and Young Griff", but as "Your Grace, Aegon of House Targaryen, and Lord Jon of House Connington". The former bravo kept referring to Griff as Aegon, when everyone knew that the real Aegon Targaryen had died during the Sack of King's Landing; Griff decided to play along with his delusion and nodded solemnly, as he knew better than to contradict the faded. Eventually, Mopatis told him of relatives he supposedly had, Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, who were also in Pentos; his alleged aunt was to marry Khal Drogo in a few hours, or rather the wedding would begin in a few hours, because Dothraki weddings tended to be long, bloody affairs, and half the people there only came for the feasting, killing, and wenching.

At the wedding, he met the putative aunt and uncle, and he saw why Mopatis thought he was a Targaryen: they had the same color hair and eyes, as well as ears and chin, but his face was longer than theirs and his cheekbones were more pronounced; Daenerys was a little younger than him, and she looked kind but scared. On the other hand, Viserys looked older than him by half and glared at him like he was vermin. Luckily, Daenerys' new husband welcomed him and Father to the central ramp, and Mopatis sat between Viserys and the Griffs, looking out into the crowd expectantly.

Late in the day, the Magister saw whoever he was looking for, but his face turned into one of dismay. Viserys saw them next, and charged down the ramp in high dudgeon, but he didn't seem to know much about fighting, if the way he held his sword was any clue. Following them, Young Griff saw who they were looking at, and he beheld a group of Westerosi, their leader bearing a grey banner with a white wolf.

Viserys exchanged angry words with the leader of the Westerosi; then, Illyrio intervened and talked with the leader. As he approached, Young Griff heard them talking about him; Mopatis called him Aegon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell; then, the leader of the Westerosi group called him Daemon Sand, natural son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Finally, Father stepped forward, and combined the two fictions into a third one, and called him "Daemon Targaryen".

After they came to an agreement on what they would call Griff, the leader, called Jon Snow, came to him with a black bundle of fur in his arms. At closer glance, Jon Snow looked like a dark-haired, untanned version of him, with the same long face and sharp cheekbones. And, the black bundle turned out to be a wolf cub with yellow eyes: this seemed like the wolf he was in his dreams!

An agreement was come to by Jon, Mopatis, and Father: Griff would stay for his alleged aunt's wedding, then once she and her husband rode off, he would join the Westerosi on a ship to wherever they came from. Neither Viserys nor Griff liked this: one because he was jealous of the kingship and the other because he didn't want to be anything other than the son of the sellsword Old Griff. So decided, the wedding progressed until it was time for the gifts.

After the bloodriders and most of the guests had given their gifts to the wedding couple, Homeless Harry, leader of the Golden Company, and Caggo, lieutenant of the Windblown, approached Daenerys and Khal Drogo with outstretched swords; Harry gave her Blackfyre, one of the Targaryen ancestral swords, and Caggo gave Drogo his Valyrian steel arakh. Unlike the arakh given by the bloodriders which had a hilt of ivory and a bright steel blade forged by Qohoric smiths and was finely adorned with gold and jewels, this arakh was plain, with a hilt of dragonbone and a blade of Valyrian steel.

Then, while Daenerys was riding Drogo's gift horse, Viserys stabbed the khal from behind and Jon killed the Beggar Prince; in the mayhem that followed, Daemon looted the black arakh from Drogo's cooling corpse and grabbed the reins of his alleged aunt's steed. He wasn't certain if she was family, but the middle of a massacre was no place for her.

When they reached the harbor, the group halted in front of a ship, the Black Betha, and Father looked at Jon and said, "Tell Lord Stark what I said about Rhaegar and Lyanna, and please keep him safe. He may not be mine by blood, but I'm the closest thing he has had to a father."

To this, Jon replied, "His uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, sent me here to bring the boy home to Winterfell. He will be safe with family." Family? What kind of family was he talking about?

Father then turned to Griff and said, "When you were young, you were sent to Mopatis for safekeeping, and the Magister arranged for me to raise you. You're a good man, and you'll make a good ruler."

Then, Ser Jorah Mormont said to Jon, "Tell Lord Stark I hold him no ill will and tell my father and Maege that I have found a new life here. And, if you don't mind my asking, do you know what became of Longclaw?"

Jon said, "The Old Bear has it with him at the Wall," and Jorah relaxed, then he and Father bade farewell and rode off into Pentos. Jon, speaking for the group, asked the captain for permission to board, which Captain Seaworth granted, and the survivors began loading their horses onto the ship.

When they were safely stowed, and the ship had cast off, Jon asked Griff if he could think of any names for the black direwolf, still calling him "Daemon". Griff thought for a moment, then said, "Perhaps something will come to me later, but I have no clue right now."

Jon then said, "Since you're the head of House Targaryen, this belongs to you," as he unbuckled Blackfyre and held it out to Griff; it was obvious he was trying to complete the façade of Griff being Daemon Targaryen, rightful King, and Griff wanted no part of it. Then, Griff had an idea as to how he could escape the doom of being the head of a Great House with naught but enemies.

He took the proffered sword and said, "If I am Daemon of House Targaryen, as you say, then my aunt and I will be in danger in Westeros. Sure, I may be the nephew of Lord Stark, but that won't mean much against the Crown. However, if we are banners of House Stark, we should be safe." Then, he handed Blackfyre back to Jon, knelt, and said, "House Targaryen submits to House Stark. Accept our—"

Jon interrupted Griff, and he said, "I'm not a Stark; I'm a Snow. An acknowledged bastard, but a bastard all the same. I have no authority, so you'll have to wait until we reach Winterfell and you can officially bend the knee to Lord Stark. Take your sword back, cousin."

To this, Griff declined, patting the hilt of the arakh he had looted, and said, "I'm better with an arakh than a longsword. As Lord of House Targaryen, it is a gift in gratitude for your saving us and giving us a new home." He hoped this would be enough to palm off suspicion and perhaps save him and his alleged aunt from King Robert's wrath against House Targaryen.

After a minute, Griff continued, "Do you still have the head of—of my uncle, Viserys? I've heard that there's a bounty on him, and we could collect it. But, if we leave the head as it is, it'll rot away before we can collect. We could tar it or boil it, but that'll leave it unrecognizable, too. But, a headhunter from Sothoryos traveled with me and Fa—Lord Connington for a while, and he had a way of preserving the heads he took to present for bounties. I helped him a few times, and I think I remember how he did it. I'll need the cook to let me into the galley, though."

This piqued Jon's interest, and he followed Griff into the Black Betha's galley. Jon bribed the cook into letting them use a pot and the stove, and Griff set to work.

First, Griff cut a slit in the back of Viserys' head, from where the neck meets the skull to the end of the stump, then he peeled the skin and scalp from the skull. This took enough time that the pot came to a simmer, and he moved the pot so it wasn't being directly heated by the fire and put the skin into the pot. The skull, he threw out into the Narrow Sea, then he waited for the skin to reach the point where it was preserved but the hair was still attached.

Jon watched with a look of mixed curiosity and disgust, then said, "If you need my help, I'll be on deck, practicing with Blackfyre. Thank you again for your gift, cousin," and walked out, his hand on the ruby pommel.


	17. Chapter 17 - Eddard IV

**Author's Note:** Not sure if I caught the essence of Ned in this chapter.  
**Chapter 17 – Eddard IV**

Ned stood on the stair of White Harbor, awaiting the return of one nephew and the arrival of another; the ravens had stopped swarming Maester Luwen with replies to his letters, and he sighed. Only three Houses were willing for Jon to marry one of their daughters, and one of them he had asked in person.

Wyman Manderly was willing to have Wylla, his younger granddaughter, marry Jon; Howland, knowing all that had happened in Dorne, was willing to have Meera marry either of Ned's nephews; and, Maege was willing to have Jon marry her third or fourth daughters, Lyra and Jorelle. The rest were surprised that he was finding a betrothal for his bastard before thinking of Robb, and he did not blame them. Finding a bride for his heir was his duty, and he needed to act before Robb did something foolish with that Poole girl. Then again, his foster-brother might be willing to marry his daughter to Robb. Ned just worried that Jon might come back from Pentos with some girl he met.

Suddenly, he was stirred from his reverie when the lookout, with a Myrish glass, saw the Black Betha and cried, "Black Betha approaches!" As preparations were made for Captain Seaworth's return, Ned made his way to the docks to greet his nephews, after the three-week journey.

When the ship docked, he first saw Jon. He had the same grim look on his face, but he had replaced his weirwood-furnished longsword for one with black—dragonbone? He needed to ask about that, as Jon had given – Wolfheart to Jory, who had it on his belt.

In the group were two hooded figures; presumably, the taller one was Daemon, but he had no idea who the shorter one was. When Ned's party and Jon's party reunited and began the journey to Winterfell, he noticed that Daemon carried a long curved sword with a black, rippled blade: Valyrian steel. When during his years abroad did he get Valyrian steel?

A few hours later, after they made camp on the road to Winterfell, Jon brought the hooded figures to Ned's tent, where they removed their hoods. The taller one was his nephew, who looked both Stark and Targaryen; the shorter one was a girl, pure Targaryen. Try as he could, no words came out of Ned's mouth for a minute, until he finally broke the silence with "What? The. Fuck‽"

Jon seemed to have been waiting for this, as he said, "Lord Stark, may I present to you your nephew, Daemon, and your good-sister, Daenerys, both of House Targaryen? I found Daemon in Pentos, at her wedding, but things quickly went to the dogs. During the mayhem that ensued, Daemon decided to bring his aunt along; and, he wishes to bend the knee to House Stark."

Ned took a long moment to calm the panic that had begun to set in, then he growled, "Seven hells, Jon! What were you thinking, bringing her here? Her brother is a rebel and Robert will doubtless want her - Hold on, why did you call her my goodsister? Viserys is in Essos, far from anyone I might be related to, and Rhaegar died at – bugger!" As he spoke, he found himself in a horrible moment of dawning comprehension then fell silent, as he realized the implications of Jon's choice of words.

Daemon broke the silence by asking, "So, was I wrong to assume that this was some sort of grand fabrication intended to put me on the Iron Throne as your puppet? Up until a couple weeks ago, I thought I was 'Young Griff', son of the sellsword Griff and a Volantine woman. Then, I was told I was Aegon Targaryen, secreted out of King's Landing shortly before the sack. Now, are you telling me that my entire life has been a lie? What are your plans for me?"

The Targaryen girl, Daenerys, timidly added, "You don't seem as – as scary as Viserys described you. Although, he seems to have been wrong about many things."

And that's the rub. Her brother. Ned thought for a moment, then he said, "It would be easier if your brother weren't off in Essos, raising an army to take back the Iron Throne. Since he's striving for a Targaryen reclamation, Robert's not going to have any mercy for you."

Jon laughed evilly, rummaged in his rucksack, and pulled out a lumpy – thing, roughly the size of a large onion, then he handed it to Ned and said, "It's pretty hard to raise an army when you're missing your head." At closer glance, he realized it was a head and scalp, boiled down into a grisly trophy. Even without the bones, he recognized it as a Targaryen.

Jon grinned wolfishly, drew his new, dragonbone-furnished sword, which Ned recognized as Valyrian steel, and said, "Ironically, I finished off Viserys with the Targaryen ancestral sword Blackfyre. It feels—better—in my hands than an arming sword, Wolfheart, even Longc—nevermind." All of a sudden, Jon cut himself off. What would he know of the Mormont ancestral sword? When had he touched it, let alone wielded it? Didn't the Old Bear have it with him at Castle Black?

Holding the head of Robert's last enemy, Ned thought for a moment. With Viserys out of the way, Daenerys would be the heir, but for what Jon had said about her being Ned's good-sister. The only way she could be his good-sister were if Lya had married Rhaegar, but no Septon would vouch for their wedding. "How is she my good-sister? Lya never married Prince Rhaegar!" Ned uttered, utterly perplexed. "No Septon would marry them because Elia was still his wife!"

Jon said, "Lord Connington told us that Elia told Rhaegar to find a junior wife to bear him the 'rest of the heads of the dragon', or something like that. During the Harrenhal tournament, Rhaegar and Elia met with Lyanna, and laid plans; and they later married in the Harrenhal godswood, in the Northern fashion; Lord Connington not only witnessed it, he handed her over. Oh, fuck! If they were married, that means Daemon is trueborn, and thus the heir to the Iron Throne." He then leaned over and thumped his head against Ned's table in despair.

Ned groaned in sympathy, then said, "Now you see the reason for my dismay when I saw Daenerys. At least you brought her because she is Daemon's family, not because you got her with child; the few houses who would be willing to have you marry their daughter would be insulted you chose a Targaryen over a Northern girl. Except for the Mormonts. Lyra would have cut your heart out with a bear's claw."

Daemon said, "Jon seemed more interested in one of her wedding presents, a set of three petrified dragon eggs. I brought her along because I thought that's what the Head of House Targaryen would do, to play along with the whole joke. Only it's not a joke, I actually am Daemon Targaryen. Now, that's funny." He grimaced, then let out a morbid laugh, as the awful reality set in.

Ned stuck his head out and called for a cask of ale and four flagons; when they arrived, he poured drinks for him, his nephews, and his good-sister. "My original plan was to have you and Daemon legitimized as Brandon's offspring; since he bedded a few Volantine captains' daughters, nobody would look askance at you for your Valyrian looks. The two of you would have been legitimized as Starks, we could deal with whatever Jon saw coming in his vision, and afterwards, we would deal with who got what.

"But, your presence," he said as he turned to Daenerys, "both complicates and simplifies matters. Since the last of the Targaryens are going to be in Winterfell when the King arrives, we may be able to make peace. Perhaps, after the Guest Rights are given, you could come out and bend the knee to Robert? No, that wouldn't work. He'd kill you where you stood. Maybe I could find somewhere private to talk to him and persuade him?"

Jon chipped in, "The catacombs. He'll want to visit Lyanna's tomb; you can talk to him there in solitude. Also, why would her presence complicate my legitimization? I'm Brandon's son by Ashara Dayne, aren't I? You said that the truth of my parentage would shame two houses: would they be Stark and Dayne, because of who was involved, or Stark and Tully, as Brandon was betrothed to Catelyn?"

Damnit. His plan had crumbled because his nephews brought the Targaryen girl with them. He had been planning on talking to Howland about the Tower of Joy, then breaking the news to Robert gently, then finally telling Jon and Daemon the truth. With Daenerys in the North, and the exiled lords in Essos knowing about Lya and Rhaegar, there was not much time left. He had to tell Jon the truth now. Determined, Ned finished his ale and said, "No. Stark and Baratheon."


	18. Chapter 18 - Joffrey I

**Author's note:** Written on phone during vacation. Please excuse typos due to winged monkey messengers .  
**Chapter 18 - Joffrey I**  
Joffrey's bloodlust was driving him crazy. He hadn't killed, mutilated, or even humiliated anyone since leaving King's Landing so Father could chat with his war-buddy up in the arse end of the butt-fuck North. So, he was suffering the same way Father or the Imp would suffer if separated from whores for weeks on end. Except they were able to continue wenching, and Joff hadn't been able to so much as twist someone's ear.

Despite being his sworn sword, the Mutt was useless. He wouldn't drag away a worthless peasant girl, let Joffrey grab her, or even let Joffrey have Qyrek grab her. Why did the Mutt care what happened to a nameless wench? It's not like he wanted to examine the insides of the daughter of someone who mattered, and if anyone missed her, they'd assume that she had run off to join the King's party as a camp follower.

This left Joffrey slinging Nightfang into the trunk of a tree, imagining that the farm-girl he had seen earlier was tied there. After he nailed the same Crown-sized spot ten times in a row, he balanced Nightfang on his hand and contemplated the poniard.

Qyrek had stolen it from Lord Baelish, scabbard and all, while Joffrey was sating his bloodlust on a whore who had been nought but a liability for Littlefucker. The look of impotent rage on her face as Joffrey strangled her with her own guts was beautiful, and her choked screams of agony were music; but more beautiful than the dying agony of a ruined body was Nightfang.

Nightfang was a fine eyestabber made of the best dark materials; its blade was two palms long and a thumb wide, with a point that could pierce ringmail even if it weren't Valyrian steel, and an edge that could slice a bare throat like soft cheese; the dragonbone grip was carved into a comfortable shape; and, the pommel was dragonglass seated in darkened steel, weighting it perfectly for both hand-to-hand and throwing.

Joffrey considered wearing Nightfang in his boot, but he decided against it, as Father might recognize the dagger he had looted from Prince Rhaegar's corpse. So, when he heard the horns signalling that the Royal Party would mount soon, he handed it back to Qyrek for safekeeping. Perhaps, when they reached the Twins, he could experiment on one of the countless Frey bastards there? Qyrek had told him that a stab to the gut could either kill quickly or slowly and painfully, depending on where you struck, and he wanted to know if that was true.


	19. Chapter 19 - The Bard I

**Author's note:** Written on phone while waiting for dinner at Napenthe. Please excuse typos due to winged monkey messengers.  
**Chapter 19 - The Bard I**  
The Black Gate still recognized him, even though he had abandoned the order many years before. "Perhaps because I am still 'the shield that guards the realms of men'?" he pondered, as he and his band negotiated the closed passages of the Nightfort.

The girl kissed by fire looked at him askance after hearing him identify himself to the Gate, but nobody complained too loudly. Walking under The Wall was a much easier task than climbing it, and they could bring their own horses this way.

They headed southwards from the Nightfort, in the general direction of Winterfell but meandering from inn to inn. The Bard knew every bawdy song north and south of The Wall, and he would find out the truth about the other King.


	20. Chapter 20 - Jon VI

**Author's note:** Written on phone during vacation. Please excuse typos due to winged monkey messengers.  
**Chapter 20 - Jon VI**

Stupid. How had he been so stupid? Bringing Daemon had been risky enough, since he looked like a Targaryen. But bringing Daenerys? A pure dragonspawn? Why didn't he think about the fact that by harboring enemies of the crown, he was bringing Robert's hammer down on House Stark!

Suddenly, Lord Stark's voice cut through Jon's despair, saying, "When we talked, I told you the truth of your birth would shame two Houses."

For the entire trip, Jon had pondered which two Houses would be shamed by his birth, and he had come up with two combinations: Stark and Dayne, since his parents were almost certainly Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne, or Stark and Tully, as Brandon Stark was betrothed to Catelyn Tully. He said as such, but Eddard's response shocked him. "No," he said. "Stark and Baratheon."

Daemon said "Why would he shame the Baratheons? He's not the Whoring King's, is he?"

Uncle smiled sadly, and said, "Jon, you're not Brandon's son, you're Lya's. She took off with Rhaegar without telling anyone, and your idiot uncle Brandon ran off to King's Landing and got himself killed."

The silence was deafening, then Daenerys looked at Jon and said, "But I thought you said he was Rhaegar's," pointing at Daemon, then turned to Uncle and said, "How can they both be my nephews? They're as different as day and night!"

Uncle's face grew more sombre, and he let out a grim laugh. "Close. Her words were 'Night, then Day.' Jon, you did not bring Rhaegar's heir, you brought his spare. Not like there's much for either of you to inherit from Rhaegar, after Robert's war."

Hundreds of thoughts whirled through Jon's head, as he comprehended what he had heard. He was a Targaryen? Perhaps that was why Blackfyre felt right in his hands, better than Longclaw had, but why'd Uncle tell him "You have my blood"? Lyanna; she was his mother, not his aunt. That would take some getting used to. He and Daemon were twins? That actually made sense, in an ironic way. Daemon looked more Stark than Robb did, even with the Targaryen coloring. Fortunately, Cat should be more tractable when she found out that Jon was Eddard's nephew by Lyanna; he was certain that her distrust for him stemmed from his potential for supplanting her children, and his being Jon of House Targaryen, Lord of somewhere and Bannerman to House Stark would assuage her fears.

"So, our goal," Jon said. "Keep Houses Stark and Targaryen alive. If the King doesn't pardon us for the sins of our father, Daemon and I have an escape: join Aemon on The Wall. Sadly, neither the Night's Watch nor the Citadel accept women, and the Faith has a bone to pick with the Targaryens, so you don't have a similar escape," turning to Daenerys. "Your fallback would probably be join the Wildlings or go back to Essos.

"Ideally, we would get Robert to accept us back into the King's Peace, and maybe acknowledge the legitimacy of children of Rhaegar's junior wife. Marrying you off would mean that your children would be an excuse to rise against the Crown. Although, if you're married to the Crown Prince, cruel bugger he is, that would tie the Targaryen loyalists to the Crown far better than words would. He couldn't possibly be worse than your first husband, right?"

The others seemed to accept this gambit, and Jon continued, "We should take this slowly. I'll bring him Viserys' head during the feast on the first night, once he's in a good mood, then I tell him the truth about me; I bend the knee and get accepted as Jon Targaryen. The next day, after the hunt, he meets you two; until then, you hide somewhere. The Broken Tower, maybe?"

Eddard looked at Jon for a moment, then said, "That seems like a good plan; Robert is more tractable when he's happy, and he loves food, wine, women, and the hunt. And, since nobody goes in there, the Broken Tower would be a good hiding place."

One thing caught in Jon's mind that night: why did he have a bad feeling about the Broken Tower?


	21. Chapter 21 - The Drummed Man I

Author's note: Written on phone during vacation. Please excuse typos due to winged monkey messengers.  
Chapter 21 - The Drummed Man I

The drums. The gods-damned drums that nobody else could hear; they damn near split his head open with their ringing. Why couldn't anybody else hear the fucking drums?  
Thump-thump-thump-thump!

They grew louder and beat faster when he faced north, and they faded when he faced away, but they never ceased when he faced due south.  
Thump-thump-thump-thump!

Killing quieted them for a while, as did fucking, but they never stayed away. When he drank, the drums slowed down, but in the morning they hit a fever pitch that resonated with his fucking hangover to make his head hurt worse!  
Thump-thump-thump-thump!

The drums, the drums, the never-ending drums! The rhythm of four. What did it mean?  
Thump-thump-thump-thump!  
Thump-thump-thump-thump!


	22. Chapter 22 - The Three-Eyed Raven I

**Author's Notes:** This POV took some work trying to get the viewpoint right. It may seem redundant, but I'm trying to work with a POV character who we never got a POV from GRRM. While reading this, I recommend this piece of music: "Prophecies" by Philip Glass. It may give a hint as to my inspiration for how I wrote this character, as a reference to another great work. Also, let me know if I made any errors re: canon/consistency.  
**Chapter 22 – The Three-Eyed Raven I**

The sword is in my hand. It is a lean sword, made for a woman's hand. She was Visenya Targaryen, my ancestor. In twelve seconds' time, I drop the sword onto the roots. It's already there, twelve seconds into the future.

Ten seconds now. The sword is in my hand. I found it in an abandoned armory in Maegor's Holdfast, one hundred and ten years ago.

It's still there, one hundred and ten years into the past, on its rack, in the abandoned armory. I'm still there, looking at it. The sword is in my hand. The dragonbone dragon head of the hilt encloses a ruby, like a tongue of fire. Seven seconds now.

It's the 298th year after the Conquest. I'm north of the Wall. It's the 188th year after the conquest. I'm in Maegor's Holdfast, in an abandoned armory. Four seconds. Three.

I'm depressed by holding the sword now. I open my hand. It falls onto the roots that make my throne. I am going to look through my other eyes. They said that I had one thousand eyes and one when I was the Bloodraven. Three months into my future, I meet with my successor. Ten seconds into my past, I open my hand. Dark Sister is falling.

I see through the eyes of all the animals in the forest and the eyes of the Heart trees, as they observe all that happens north and south of the Wall.

It's the 184th year after the Conquest. I stand with my half-brothers and half-sisters before our father as he grants us legitimacy. My half-brother, Daemon, chooses to keep his taken name. I am nine years old.

It's the 298th year after the Conquest; I am one hundred twenty-three years old. Dark Sister lies on the roots, falls from my grasp, is in my hand, is on the rack.

It's the 182nd year after the Conquest. My half-brother, Daemon, is acknowledged after winning a squires' tournament by our father, King Aegon of House Targaryen, who gives him the sword Blackfyre. Daemon takes the sword's name as his surname, and the seeds of rebellion are planted.

It's the 190th year after the Conquest. In the Godswood of Raventree Hall, I get my first glimpse through the eyes of a raven. Soon after, I learn to control this power, and I replace my yew bow with a weirwood one in gratitude for the gift from the trees.

It's the 196th year after the Conquest. I lead my group of archers in service to my half-brother, King Daeron. At the Redgrass Field, we watch as Daemon Blackfyre orders the loyalist Kingsguard Gwayne Corbray to be taken from the field. We rain arrows down upon the rebels, claiming many of them. My half-brother Aegor, the Bittersteel, charges between our shafts wielding the rebels' namesake sword, and we duel. He takes one of my eyes before Baelor's hammer crushes the rebels against Maekar's anvil and Aegor flees.

It's the 233rd year after the Conquest. I call a Great Council to name a successor to Aerys Targaryen. Aenys Blackfyre comes to press his claim, and he is arrested by the City Watch and executed. I am accused of his death, and am offered death or the Wall. I sail north with my grand-nephew, Maester Aemon.

It's the 239th year after the Conquest. I am elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch at the age of sixty-five years. Thirteen years later, while ranging I am called further north, to take on the mantle of the Three-Eyed Raven. In this throne of roots, I can see all that ever happened, all that is, and much that may come, at the same time; time is like a tapestry laid out for my eyes to see, beautiful and orderly.

It's the 282nd year after the Conquest. One of Daeron's descendents, Rhaegar, runs off with the daughter of House Stark, Lyanna. Her brother, assuming the worst, drags the Seven Kingdoms into another Targaryen civil war, and his brother's foster-brother, Robert of House Baratheon, rises against Aerys II. The next year, Lyanna bears Rhaegar's twin sons, one with strong wolfblood and one with the dragonblood; she names them Jon and Daemon to her brother, then dies. He gives Daemon to Targaryen loyalists, telling them his name is Aegon, and brings Jon to Winterfell, claiming him as a bastard.

It's the 300th year after the Conquest. Jon is named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, then is assassinated by his men after he lets Free Folk south of the Wall. Lord Stark's second son joins me and begins to assume the mantle of the Three-Eyed Raven. Shortly after, the Others storm the Wall, the North, and King's Landing. The petty squabbles over the Iron Throne are turned into a grim fight for survival, as the dead and Others swarm over the realms of men. Suddenly, the tapestry unravels, shredding two and a half years into nothingness, casting me back to the 298th year after the Conquest; a duskwalker has recalled the dark future. I feel drained, as his return pulls energy from the weirwoods.

Eventually, the threads of the tapestry partially reform, but the future is turbulent. Tracking the changes, I see Jon is the duskwalker. The rift in time brought about by his recalling gives me enough power to reach far to the south and east, where I give a vision to the man who wields Blackfyre.

It's the 298th year after the Conquest. Jon wields Blackfyre, and risks everything in a foolish gambit. I read the strands of possibility, and I see many foul ones and few fair ones; if his gambits fail and he dies again, I will not be able to anchor him again. The Endless Winter will come, and night will swallow the world. I cannot speak directly into his mind, as he is a skinchanger but not a greenseer. I sense my old raven heading towards him. I will speak to Jon through the old bird.


	23. Chapter 23 - Robb I

**Chapter 23 – Robb I**

Everything had changed, and Jon's mysterious vision was to blame. Oh, Robb didn't blame his half-brother, but he didn't like it. Just a couple days after Jon somehow predicted the letter informing them of Jon Arryn's death, Father and Jon rode off to White Harbor, leaving Robb the Acting Warden of the North. Shortly afterwards, Walder had another episode, this time in the courtyard. At first, he was just yelling "hodor!", the only thing he ever said, but it soon changed. "Hodor! Hodor! Holdor! Holdor! Holdor! Hole th' door! Hold th' door! Hold the door! Hold the—", then he stopped and looked confused, and he asked, "What door?" to everyone's surprise. Old Nan was the first to break the silence, and she rushed her grandson with tears of joy streaking her face.

Later that day, a mysterious box came from Aunt Lysa for Mother, who seemed shaken after opening it. At first she didn't say what it was, then she pulled Robb aside in the godswood and told him that Lysa suspected the Lannisters of poisoning Lord Hand Arryn. This left them wondering who outside their family they could trust, but this sense of security was shattered by ravens bearing messages for Lord Stark.

Apparently, Father was looking for a bride for Jon; this wouldn't have been suspicious, save that he had made no overt plans for Robb's marriage. Even worse, Lord Karstark's letter read, "Legitimized or no, Jon will not have my daughter's hand." If Father was planning on legitimizing Jon, could Mother be right? Was Eddard planning on making Jon his heir and banishing Robb to found a branch house? Or worse, was he doomed to the Wall?

The one thing that gave Robb some ease was the greatsword Ice strapped to his back and over his left shoulder. Although carrying a sword by a baldric would prevent swift drawing, Robb's arms were too short to draw Ice even from a frog at the hip. Instead, he would have to unclip the belt, bring the sheathed sword down to his hip, and draw the ponderous blade from its weirwood, wolf-hide, and bronze scabbard. If he grasped the hilt close to the crossguard and the scabbard near the opening, he could draw Ice alone, albeit only barely. If someone else held the scabbard, it was much easier. Fortunately, the sword wasn't too bad to wield, considering its size. Ice's blade was four thumbs wide at the base, and it tapered to a point about two palms from the tip. The hilt was weirwood, wrapped in tanned wolf hide, and almost four palms long; the crossguard was black bronze in the shape of two wolves howling, and the pommel was a wolfshead with a great piece of dragonglass between its jaws knapped smooth.

Shortly before Jon had left, he had let Robb hold his new sword, Wolfheart. The bare weirwood hilt was less slippery than might be suspected, but Robb felt the only reason that Jon was able to keep the blade in his hands was that the hilt was long enough to grasp it with both hands; with this in mind, he had commissioned an arming sword and a dagger from Mikken, with similar construction to Ice's scabbard and hilt. Replicating the pommel and crossguard took a week, but Mikken's efforts were worth it, Robb thought. His new sword felt like an extension of his arm, and the dagger slid from its sheath like Grey Wind ghosting through the woods.

One night, after supper, Mother had a terrible idea. What if Jon wasn't even Father's bastard? Robb couldn't see what would be that much worse, until she pointed out the fact that Jon might possibly be Brandon Stark's son, sired shortly before her first betrothed's death. If Jon were Brandon's get, and Robb's cousin, then legitimizing him as such would put him above Robb in the succession; he would supersede even Lord Eddard Stark! What if Father had been planning on this all along? Surely he wouldn't banish his own family, including himself, from Winterfell to give it to Jon! The household was caught up in great paranoia, save for Arya. She seemed indifferent to potentially being cast out, and it made sense; she was Jon's favorite sibling, closer to him than Robb was.

Robb had sent Father letters asking questions along these lines, and his invarying reply was "I'll tell you when we return to Winterfell." He had been sending these letters for almost a month, and messengers had been going to White Harbor, when the reply suddenly changed to "We're returning to Winterfell; we will have words when we return." Oh yes, they would have words! Loud words. And maybe they would come to some understanding, the Lord of Winterfell and the man who had acted in his stead while he was off in White Harbor.


	24. Chapter 24 - Varys II

**Author's note:** Written on phone; please forgive typos due to winged monkey couriers.  
**Chapter 24 – Varys II**

It was barely two weeks since he had sent the letter telling Lord Stark where to go, and rumors about Daenerys' wedding to Khal Drogo were beginning to emanate from Pentos. Only, instead of the glad tidings of their union, the rumors bore news of woe, and the Stark representative stood at the center of all of them, and Aegon was mentioned in several of them. Some of the stories said that the Warden of the North had sent his trueborn son, Robb; others said he had sent his bastard, Jon Snow. Ah, Jon Snow: the truth of his mother was one of the few secrets the otherwise straightforward Honest Ned had; the other was his protecting Aegon.

The rumors also varied in what happened; some said that the Stark man had murdered Drogo and Viserys, and hauled Daenerys away, slung over a shoulder like a goat. Others said that Drogo had turned on the Targaryens and Aegon had teamed up with the Stark to kill the horselord, before riding away with the Golden company guarding them. There were still others, ranging from plausible to the lunatic, and Varys had listened to all of them with the same pleasant attitude and handful of coins. But, he was on the docks today to find the truth from his old friend.

Finally, as rosy-fingered dawn touched the horizon, the Bravo's Wings rose from the edge of the world and began its approach to the empty dock where Varys stood. When the galley docked, Illyrio gestured angrily for Varys to come aboard. This did not bode well.

Varys was led into Illyrio's private quarters, and the magister poured two glasses of strongwine before collapsing into a chair; he had not been fond of the potent beverage before: what had happened to change this? "How bad is it?" Varys asked, breaking the silence.

Mopatis took a swig from his goblet, then said, "It's not quite the worst case, but it's up there. Khal Drogo and Viserys are dead, and the Starks have the other Targaryens. And it's all because of that Daemon boy! If I hadn't brought him with me to the wedding, if I had stayed at my manse with him until the Stark representative came, it could have all been averted!"

"You said 'Daemon', no? Who are you talking about?" Varys asked, perplexed. This elucidated Mopatis' state, but raised even more questions.

"You'll understand things better if I started at the beginning. Lord Connington and his charge came to my manse in the morning, and I brought them with me to the wedding. Viserys didn't take kindly to my introducing the boy as Aegon and made a comment that he looked 'more wolf than spear'. Later, the Stark men came, led by a man named Jon Snow. Viserys' charged at them in rage, but I managed to stop the fight and Lord Snow gave me the passphrase. During the discussion, Jon Snow said that Aegon was actually Daemon Sand, Rhaegar's bastard on Lyanna Stark, then Jon Connington said that he was actually a Targaryen, since Lyanna was Rhaegar's junior wife, married in the Northern way. I thought you told me that he was Aegon, son of Rhaegar and Elia!"

This twist was unexpected. Had Ned the Honorable, Ned the Truthbound, Ned the True actually lied to him back in Starfall, all those years ago? If so, his respect for the man deepened. What sort of man would protect the son of his enemy because the babe was also his nephew? What if his bastard was also—No, that would be impossible. The shock Varys felt must have leaked through his guard, because Illyrio said, "You didn't know? I thought you told me that you had stolen the babe from his nursery and replaced him with a commoner's son; truly, how did you acquire him?

Varys swallowed some of the liquor in his goblet, then said, "It was shortly after the fall of King's Landing, probably a week after the death of Lady Lyanna at the Tower of Joy; I was approached by a Crannogman, a short, scrawny kind of Northman notable for their stealth and skill with poisons, skill that would make a Dornishman envious, who told me that Rhaegar's heir was still alive and well, and that he knew where to find him. So, I boarded the ship he had arrived in, and we arrived in Starfall shortly after. I met Lord Stark, who was recovering from a wound he had taken in combat, and he gave me the infant, telling me his name was Aegon. R'hllor's beard, I thought that he had somehow saved the boy from the Mountain's ravages, but he palmed his own nephew onto us. It's funny, the Stark girl named her son after the men who caused the most grief for House Targaryen, the Daemon Blackfyres. So, what happened after Lord Connington revealed that snippet of truth?"

Magister Mopatis grimaced, then said, "Aegon, Daemon, whatever his name is, he wanted to stay until the wedding was finished. So, the Northmen joined us on the hill, and the gifts were given. Probably the grievance that pushed Viserys over the edge was the gifts; Harry Strickland, captain-general of the Golden Company, gave the Targaryen heirloom Blackfyre to Daenerys, and Caggo, one of Tatters' lieutenants, gave his arakh to Drogo. You know, that one." The emphasis reminded Varys of one of their last heists before he shifted over into the brokering of intelligence; one of his rats had managed to steal a Valyrian steel arakh from the very belt of Laggo, Caggo's father, just before he was to fight a duel with Khal Bharbo over a stolen horse. For want of a sword, the duel was lost, and Caggo barely was able to scrape together the ransom Mopatis wanted for the sword. For Caggo to give his family's sword to the son of his father's killer, the only reason could be he wanted Drogo to leave the Great Grassy Sea, never to return. But the other sword Illyrio had mentioned…

"Pardon me, but did you say 'Blackfyre'? As in Aegon the Conqueror's legendary sword Blackfyre?" Varys asked. "The sword that was lost after the first Blackfyre rebellion? The sword that symbolized Targaryen kingship? That sword? And you say that Harry gave it to Daenerys, not to Viserys? I can see why that would irk him. So, what happened after those gifts were given?"

Illyrio gave a grunt and finished his cup, then said, "Why, Viserys stole Blackfyre and stabbed Drogo in the back! He looked like he was going to also kill his nephew, but Jon Snow stabbed his dagger through Viserys' throat then finished him off with the stolen sword! In the chaos that followed, the Northmen ran off with the surviving Targaryens, both Valyrian swords, and the three dragon eggs I had given to Daenerys as a wedding gift. If it weren't for the fact that they claimed the boy to be family, I would be certain that they are both dead and their bodies thrown into the Narrow Sea; as it is, I don't know what Lord Stark has planned."

And now House Stark had not just the sword of the Kings of Winter, but the sword of the Dragon Kings and the sword of the last Khal of Khals. If Lord Stark was planning on leading the North in revolt, he certainly had the symbols of kingship in his possession. Well, all of the plans he and Illyrio had hatched were dead, as well as Oberyn Martell's plans, thanks to Viserys' wrath. He needed to write to the king, and to Sunspear.

As the Spider left the Bravo's Wings, he was reeling, and it wasn't just the strongwine. In one stroke, Lord Stark had foiled all of his major plans, and several of Varys' minor plans. No, it wasn't even Eddard's actions, it was this Jon Snow. All Varys knew of him was that he was a bastard and that he looked more Stark than his trueborn half-brother. His mother was unknown, but the most credible rumor was that his mother was Lady Ashara Dayne. Unfortunately, the only living person who knew was Lord Stark.

When Varys reached his lair, he began writing the letters he had composed in his head. The first was to Sunspear; more precisely, it was to Oberyn Martell.

Red Viper,  
Some time ago, you made plans to betrothe your niece to a knight's ward. The betrothal is no more, as the boy is dead.  
Spider

This letter he folded and put under the false bottom of a box containing labelled vials of rare poisons from Essos, including a bottle of water from the pool in the House of Black and White, packed in straw. He gave the box to one of Oberyn's spies, saying "Gifts from Essos." With that out of the way, he returned to his lair to write his report to the King. He picked the most credible rumor, which surprisingly wasn't far from the truth. If he wrote it right, Robert shouldn't find out about Daemon, unless Eddard told him.

King Robert,  
As you may recall, Daenerys Targaryen was to marry Drogo, a Dothraki horselord. Jon Snow went to their wedding, killed Viserys Targaryen and stole the bride.  
Varys, Master of Whispers

This scroll was sent by the fastest raven to the Twins, where it should arrive shortly before Robert did. Varys hoped Lord Stark knew what he was doing, as his gambit was going to upset many plots. And some players were less forgiving of chance than Varys was.


	25. Chapter 25 - Daenerys I

**Author's Note:** The way I wrote Bloodraven chapter was a reference to Doctor Manhattan's ruminations on Mars in Alan Moore's graphic novel Watchmen.  
**Chapter 25 – Daenerys I**

As the men talked, Dany felt fear creeping upon her. After years of running from the Usurper, she was taking shelter with his best friend, and supposed to marry the Usurper's son? If someone had told her a month ago she would share bread and salt with Eddard Stark, the Quiet Wolf and the chief dog of the Usurper, Viserys would have had their tongue.

He had long told her that Eddard's chief trait was vengeance, but she could see he was wrong; Lord Stark was a man of mercy. Eddard had the mercy to protect his friend from the truth that Lyanna Stark didn't want to be married to the Usurper Lord Baratheon. He had the mercy to protect his nephew from being killed as dragonspawn by shaming himself with the stigma of fathering a bastard. And he had the mercy to protect her. But this last mercy might just get all of them killed.

"Lord Stark, do you have any plans," Dany asked, "or are you just going to tell the Usu—the king that you've been lying to him since the Rebellion?" This drew panicked looks from her good-brother and younger nephew, both older than her, but Jon had a determined look on his face.

"On the boat over, I thought about what we should do. We know that Rhaegar married Lyanna, but Robert doesn't have to. I'm not even certain if it counts, since it was never made official and he was already married. I'm fine with staying a bastard until the King declares me Stark; are you, brother?" As Jon said the last bit, he turned to Daemon.

Daemon, true to his nature of looking like a Targaryen but acting nothing like one, said, "Honestly, I couldn't care less whether I was sired by a prince or a pauper; Griff was my father in all the ways that mattered. That said, in the two weeks I've known you, the brother I never knew I had, I have grown to trust you. We stood together outside Pentos, and I would stand at your back so the world could never overtake us."

This seemed to satisfy Jon, and he continued his plan. "Once Robert is drunk and happy, I will persuade him to legitimize me as a Stark, since my mother was one. I think I know what to say, but I'll need to think about it some more. He'll probably ask for Sansa to be betrothed to Joffrey," he said as he turned to Eddard, "Theon Greyjoy needs to have some ties to Winterfell; betrothing him to Sansa wouldn't be a bad idea. That would leave the field open for Daenerys." Greyjoy? Weren't they one of the houses that Illyrio had mentioned were still loyal to House Targaryen? Or had the old schemer been lying about that, too?

This made Eddard go purple with indignation, and he growled, "Why would I wed my daughter to my hostage? He lives as encouragement for Balon to behave. If they were to marry and Balon rebelled again…"

Jon interrupted, "We could replace Balon with Theon as Lord of Pyke with Sansa at his side to keep him loyal to the North. Balon would almost certainly recognize that, and it should help keep him in line. I know, it's not my decision to make, but we will need the Iron Islands' loyalty in the oncoming Winter." Dany thought Jon spoke with the voice of a man who had grown accustomed to making the hard decision, but how could that be? He was scarce a year older than her!

Eddard mulled this suggestion over, before saying, "I had not thought about it that way; by the Old Gods, how did one vision turn you into a cold tactician? No vision I have heard of could do that. I've seen several changes in you since you awoke, and not one of them could be just from a vision of two years. … Unless, Howland may be right, and you actually lived those years. We'll just have to wait until we meet the frogsticker."


	26. Chapter 26 - Daemon II

**Author's note:** My computer bricked itself while writing this; please forgive any errors due to extraction.  
**Chapter 26 - Daemon II**

As the party was riding through the town outside Winterfell, or Winter Town, according to Jon, they met up with another party. This party bore a gray-green banner with some sort of reptile on it, and the men-at-arms wore mottled green and brown garb, with brown and black tassels. Beneath the mottley mantles, they wore scale armor, made of some dark metal. Some carried bows and arrows, and others bore tridents and nets, and they all had a short, broad blade, more knife than sword, at their hips. The bows were curved and looked to have arms made of wood and bone, and were festooned with the same green, brown, and black tassels. Daemon realized that their garb would allow them to meld with the foliage and go unnoticed by all but the sharpest eyed sentry.

Their leader was a man in similar attire, but with finer-looking garments and a black signet ring on his finger; he was short and slender, with greying hair that had been dark red, and his eyes were green and lively. Behind him were a boy and a girl, presumably his; the boy looked even younger than her, and had eyes that were the same strong green that his clothes were. The girl, obviously the elder sibling, was almost as short as her father, and wore lambskin leggings and a similar jerkin to the men-at-arms.

Lord Stark introduced the man, saying, "This is Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater March and one of my oldest friends. He was with me at the Tower of Joy, and the only other person who knows what I knew about what happened there. At least until Connington told you what he did. And, these are his children, Meera and Jojen."

Lord Reed then said, "It's been a long time since I saw you, Ned; I'm glad you asked me about duskwalkers, because otherwise, I might never have left Greywater March. I'd ask about the hooded figures, but Jojen told me he dreamed of a wolf riding with three wyrms; how about we talk more in your solar?" How did Lord Reed's son dream of their presence? Was he some sort of prophet?

With that, the two parties joined and began riding towards the massive castle that stood atop the hill; the outer walls stretched upwards, almost had seen, and the inner walls were even higher. Atop the walls were towers that stretched half again as high as the walls they were built upon; these towers had pointed roofs of something dark, like stone or metal, and atop them flew white banners with grey direwolves on them.

As they approached the eastern gate through the outer wall, the party stopped suddenly. The gate was open, but blocked by a group of men-at-arms bearing the Stark emblem. Some of the men parted, and between them walked a young man. He looked to be about as old as Jon and Daemon, had dark red hair, and was shorter and stockier than them, like some of the Dothraki youths he had seen at Daenerys' ill-fated wedding. His face was long, like his and Jon's, and he looked like he might just be another man of Stark blood, especially with his white tabard emblazoned with a grey direwolf, the inverse of Jon's coat. On his back, he carried a sword almost as tall as he was, with a smaller sword at his left hip and a dagger at his right, like how Jon had Wolfheart and the white dagger. Daemon saw that the lordling would be a dangerous foe to fight, especially if that greatsword was House Stark's Valyrian steel heirloom Ice. At the young man's feet was a grey direwolf cub with dark yellow eyes, like sunlight through thick smoke, roughly the same size as Jon and Griff's wolves.

Behind him stood a man who looked to be a few years older and much taller, with dark hair; he looked smug and amused, like some of the bravos Daemon had met, and he wore a black tabard with a golden … thing on it. It looked like one of the octopi that he had seen in the fish markets; at his back, he had a longbow, and he had a sword and dirk on his belt, both with black and gold scabbards.

The younger man, the one in Stark livery, said, "Father, what is the meaning of this bloody trip?" Well, that meant the boy was Robb Stark, Lord Stark's heir. "You send your bastard off to gods know where to do Others know what, and while he is gone you ask the Northern houses if one of their daughters would marry him. It reeks, like you are plotting to deny me of my birthright and supplant me with your bastard. And is he even yours, or is he Brandon's get? Did you lie to us all this time, while the true heir to Winterfell grew to hate us, your family?"

As Daemon watched the lordling rant and rile himself up, he noticed Lord Stark had sunk into his saddle and was holding his forehead in dismay. Or possibly despair. He then looked at his twin, who was glaring daggers at Lord Stark; Jon then scoffed and said, "You didn't tell them? Anything? I thought you would have raced to tell Lady Stark the truth, at the very least. She would have been glad of it. Bugger this, we're telling him. Now."

Lord Stark glared at Jon, leaned close to Robb and whispered something, and said, "Think on that, Robb. And, Jon is right, I should have told you beforehand. We'll talk more, away from prying ears."

Their cousin did pause and think, and Daemon noticed his face change from anger to bewilderment, and finally to equal parts relief and shame; Robb grimaced and said, "Welcome to Winterfell, Father. Lord Reed, I didn't believe you would ever leave the Neck! Welcome, and your children too. Father, am I relieved as acting Lord?"

Lord Stark grimaced again and said, "Yes, son. You are relieved. From the messages Luwin sent me, you did a good job." As the men-at-arms stepped aside to let Lord Stark's party pass, Robb unbuckled his baldric, and he proffered the great blade to his father.

As they entered the castle, Daemon took note of the defenses; to begin with, the outer wall was half as thick as it was tall. In its ceiling were holes slightly wider than his head, through which defenders could rain down arrows, burning oil, and other unpleasantries. Roughly halfway through it were the first gates, made of the same strange wood as the hilts and scabbards of Jon's weapons, roughly two palms thick, and reinforced with beams of metal as thick as his hand. These gates opened outwards, and they had brackets for metal posts to be driven down into holes in the floor. Behind the gate, a ponderous grate of metal beams hung, with tracks recessed into the walls at least a cubit, and the floor had holes bored for the bottoms of the vertical bars in the grate to rest. Doubtlessly, all the other entryways were similarly fortified.

If a city was only guarded by the outer walls, an attacking army would have a hard time breaching their defenses, but Winterfell had more. Much more; Daemon pitied any commander tasked with capturing a fully garrisoned Winterfell, with all its layers intact. Between the two rings of walls lay a great moat, roughly a score and ten feet wide and the water was half that distance below the gateway. If he stood on his stirrups, his eyes were just above the floor passing through the inner wall, beyond a great oaken drawbridge.

As they ascended this bridge, Daemon craned his neck and noticed thinner drawbridges crossing the moat high up, ten-and-five feet below the top of the inner wall, and yet again ascending from outer wall to inner. If an invading force managed to take the outer wall, the defenders could drive them off with impunity. The corridor through the inner wall was much the same as the one breaching the outer wall, but twice as long, with gates half again as thick, and three steel grates. Whoever had designed this castle had not known the meaning of overkill, Daemon thought. All the forces of Essos combined would break on it like a clay pot dashed against a boulder without the defenders even flinching. And then he saw what lay inside the walls and despaired.  
In front of him, he saw the guards' barracks, and they looked large enough to house nearly a great gross; to one side of the barracks sat a squat round tower, a touch taller than the inner tower, but obviously long-abandoned. Near its base, Daemon could see the markerstones of a lichyard, some ancient and others new. On the other side of the barracks was the armory, connected to another keep by a covered bridge of the same dense granite as the rest of the castle, and with several men drilling outside. This keep was half again as tall as the older one, with squared corners tapering into a round tower, and all its entries were fortified with a gate and a grate.

Daemon followed Lord Stark's party through the courtyard to the stables, which could hold a hundred horses with ease, where they dismounted. He was careful to keep his cowl down over his hair, which he had cropped back with a dagger, and he released his direwolf from its basket and moved the arakh to his belt. As he stretched his legs after the long ride, a woman with the same red hair as Robb stormed out of the tall keep with a look of wrath on her face. She closed in on Lord Stark and began yelling at him, accusing him of the same things Robb had. Robb pulled her aside and whispered something in her ear that calmed her down from frothing rage to a light simmer; Lord Stark had a sheepish look on his face, and he said, "I should have told you, but I feared for his safety. I'm sorry, Lady Catelyn."

Lady Stark growled, "Not telling me put him in just as much danger. Why didn't you tell me when you brought him back?"

Lord Stark quietly said, "I'll explain in my solar, away from prying ears," and led Lord Reed and his children; Catelyn and Robb; and Jon, Daemon, and Daenerys into the newer keep and up several stairs to a room; Daemon could tell that it was his solar from the smell of books and paper. Almost every merchant he and Old Griff had called upon had greeted them in their solar as a display of his wealth and power; although, most of them looked more like trophy rooms than studies. As he entered, he could tell that Lord Stark used his solar for studies and for ruling the North. The only finery he could see were a couple tapestries and a comfortable chair behind the desk. After closing the door, Lord Stark finally said, "Catelyn, a long time ago, you had asked me to tell you the truth about Jon; the truth is, he is not mine; he's Lya's."

Lady Stark looked at her husband in confusion, and said, "Lyanna? But - oh. Oh, him. That inbred piece of dragonshit," with ice growing on her voice, ice that belied absolute hatred.

Eddard then said, "Yes, Rhaegar. But the true story is one of folly, and one that for a time I thought only Howland and I knew. Lya was not taken against her will; Elia convinced her to come, to run away from Robert, and my foolish sister became Rhaegar's junior wife. Her folly led to my idiot brother going down to King's Landing and getting himself and our father killed. At some point during the war, Rhaegar got her with child. When I found her, she was clutching her sons, and made me promise to protect them. Her last words were "Promise me, Ned," before she slipped away. Out of love for her, I kept to my promise to her. Her eldest, Jon, had and has the Stark look, and I brought him here and claimed him as mine, but her second son had the Targaryen look, and he wouldn't have been safe from Robert if I had brought him to Winterfell.

"So, I found a Targaryen loyalist and gave him the boy, telling him the boy was Aegon, saved from the sack. But, that was not the name Lya gave him; she named him Daemon, after the men of House Blackfyre who caused so much grief for House Targaryen. I think, at the end, she named you out of spite and for hate's sake, but it's a good name. Greet your aunt, Daemon."

Daemon flinched as attention drew to him, then he removed his hood and said, "At your service, Lady Stark. I'm better known as Young Griff, son of Griff, a sellsword of Essos. I only found out about my heritage a few weeks ago, when Jon came to Pentos, but I know that my place is with House Stark." With this, he drew his arakh and rested its tip on the stone floor.

Lord Stark said, "Rise, nephew. You're with family, you don't need to kneel."

This was followed by Lady Stark asking, "That explains him, but who is the other hooded person you brought?"

Jon smirked and said, "You'll understand once I tell my story. But, I'd like to hear what Lord Reed has to say about duskwalkers first."


	27. Chapter 27 - Jon VII

**Author's Note:** Obligatory recap and exposition section. This chapter took forever because my computer bricked itself (somehow in the second before it shut off it managed to format C:\\*.*) and I had to write the chapter on my phone; I have a new laptop, so future updates should be quicker. Also, recapping the books from Jon's perspective was "fun", for certain values thereof.

**Snowrise 27 - Jon VII**

Lord Reed sat in his chair in Ned's solar collecting his thoughts for a minute or two, before he began speaking. "There are several powerful gifts attributed to the Old Gods," he said. "Skinchanging allows a person to enter an animal's mind and control it. Greensight gives a person dreams of distant events past, present and future. These are rare, but duskwalking is rarest of all. When a person with the blood of the Kings of Winter dies, a crow takes their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, when something terrible is going to happen, the crow brings their soul back so they can prevent it. These are the duskwalkers, and the presence of one is an omen of horror. Brandon Stark, the Builder, was one such duskwalker; he brought back news of the last Long Night and helped build the Wall to fend off the Others. Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf, was another, and he brought back word of an Andal invasion that wiped out all of Westeros. With what Jon told you, I fear another grave catastrophe is upon us."

The room was silent, with everyone, including the wolf cubs, staring at Howland and Jon. Eventually, Ned broke the silence and said, "You told me your story in brief a while ago, Jon. Could you tell all you remember of that other life? Every detail you can recall could be vital to our survival."

Jon remembered the faces of people from that other life: Sam, Maester Aemon, Alliser, Tormund, and Yggritte, and he wept. After the tears subsided, he said, "First things first: I don't know all that happened in most of the realm, as I was either at or beyond the Wall for most of it. Second, most of us fucked up spectacularly, especially me. Please don't take it personally." This drew some glares, but Jon continued. "So, the King came to Winterfell to ask you to serve as his Hand; while he was there, he asked for Sansa to be betrothed to Joffrey. Later, while most of us were on a hunt, Bran fell from the First Keep, broke his back, and couldn't remember what happened. A few days after that, you left for King's Landing and I for the Wall; and a few days after that, word came up the Kingsroad of an assassination attempt on Bran that was thwarted by his direwolf."

"While at the Wall, I became friends with several of the other recruits, including Lord Tarly's eldest son, Samwell, and with the Maester, Aemon Targaryen. Uncle Benjen went ranging beyond the Wall, but didn't return; I became Lord Mormont's steward, and Sam became Aemon's steward, and we realized we were being trained to take their places. When Sam and I took our Oath at the godswood north of the Wall, Ghost found the frozen hand of one of the Rangers; we found the body of another and brought him back to Castle Black. Later that night, his body rose and attempted to slay the Old Bear, but I destroyed the wight with fire. As a token of gratitude, Lord Mormont gave me Longclaw, and I carried that sword for the rest of that life," Jon continued.

"Shortly after that happened, word came from the south that Robert had died and you had been arrested for treason against King Joffrey," Jon continued. "Specifically, that you were claiming that he was a bastard born of incest and thus Robert's heir was not him but Stannis. King Joffrey executed you and had Sansa captive, and Robb called the banners. I wanted to desert, but I chose to keep my oath to the Night's Watch and went on a great ranging north of the Wall. Robb was crowned King in the North, and he set out on a successful campaign against Lannister forces in the Riverlands.

"During the ranging beyond the wall, I joined a scouting party led by Qhorin Halfhand, and we were beset by Wildlings. Just before Qhorin and I were captured, he ordered me to do whatever it took to win the Wildlings' trust and bring word of what they were planning back to Castle Black. After we were captured, he attacked me and made me kill him, to help fool the Wildlings. Now I think about it, this was the first step towards my death."

Jon felt the eyes of everyone in the room burning into him, and he continued. "They brought me before the 'King beyond the Wall', Mance Rayder, who told me that all the Free Folk are coming south to endure the winter and escape the Others and their army of wights. I joined them in climbing the Wall, but I abandoned their party while we were in the Gift and brought word of the oncoming attack.

"Meanwhile, there was a mutiny among the remnants of the ranging that killed Lord Mormont and much of the rangers. One of the few loyal men who returned was Samwell Tarly; not only did he saw an Other and its wights, but he slew one with a dragonglass dagger."

"When the Wildlings attacked Castle Black, we fended them off at great cost, and Mance asked to treat with us. I was sent to deal with him, and it was strongly suggested that I break Guest Right and assassinate him, but, while we talked, he reminded me that the Free Folk were trying to escape the Others, not to conquer. Our meeting was cut short by the arrival of Stannis and his cavalry, as he had received word that the Wildlings were threatening Castle Black and had ridden to relieve us of them. "Once the Free Folk were routed, Stannis offered to legitimize me and make me Warden of the North, but I rejected his offer and remained Jon Snow.

"While I was dealing with kings, the rest of the Watch was trying to choose a new Lord Commander to replace the late Lord Mormont, and someone nominated me as a compromise. To my surprise, I was elected 998th Lord Commander, but the bitterness against me never went away.

"Some time later, Ramsay Bolton, the new Warden of the North, sent me a taunting letter claiming that he had Arya captive and would slowly kill her unless I came south to die. That bloody letter pissed me off and I saw little but red, but what I do recall is that I was going to rally the Free Folk to take back Winterfell and free Arya. However, some of the Watch felt I was jeopardizing them by getting involved in politics, and they led a mutiny, starting by stabbing me to death. The next thing I knew, I was lying in a godswood without Longclaw, trying to figure out where I was."

The room was silent, until Robb said, "You say that Stannis offered to make you Warden of the North, but how? If Stannis was rebelling against the Throne, why would he have the authority to appoint a Warden of the North? And, wouldn't I have been the Warden, since I was the heir to Winterfell?"

Jon took some time to collect his thoughts. He knew that the Ironborn had taken Winterfell, but he might have to lie to protect Theon and save Sansa from being betrothed to Joffrey; still, he didn't know for sure what part Theon had played. "Stannis thought that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen were bastards born of incest between Cersei and Jaime, and he claimed the throne as his by birthright. As for the North, you may have won every battle, but you still lost the war," Jon said. "While you were winning in the Riverlands, the Ironborn attacked and took Winterfell. From what I heard, they sacked Winterfell and Theon died trying to protect Bran and Rickon. That event earned you the epithet 'The King who Lost the North' and probably was what led to the Boltons' actions. Also, you were betrothed to one Frey or another, but you broke it off to marry some wench you got with child, and that drove the Freys against you as well. Those two houses plotted with the Lannisters against you, and their plan was abominably effective: they invited you and your army to a wedding at the Twins, and they killed you in violation of guest right. After that, the Lannisters declared Lord Bolton to be the new Warden of the North, legitimized his bastard, Ramsay, and sent Arya north to be Ramsay's bride."

When Jon finished speaking, Lord Stark's solar was almost as quiet as the grave, until Grey Wind jumped onto Robb's lap and began licking his face; Theon chuckled at the sight, and the gloom was lifted, a little bit at least. Robb finally said, "Well, we certainly held authority in that other time: the Hand of the King, the King in the North, and the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. But, what a cost. All of us dead, Winterfell in ruins, and Arya married to the Boltons? I'm glad the Old Gods sent you back to avert those horrors. Do either of you have a plan?" Robb directed this question to his father and Jon.

Eddard swallowed and said, "When Jon told me of his vision after news came about Lord Arryn's death, my plan was to bring Daemon home, then ask the Watch to send a party to find proof of the Others to present to Robert when he arrived. After that, I would beg him to legitimize Jon and Daemon as Starks and begin rallying the Kingdoms to prepare for the oncoming war. Unfortunately, that plan hit a snag when I sent Jon to retrieve Daemon; tell them what happened in Pentos, Jon."

Jon lifted Blackfyre from where he had set it and laid it on his lap before speaking. "So, word came that Daemon would be waiting for me in Pentos, and I sailed there with some men at arms. Unfortunately, our connection, Illyrio Mopatis, was also hosting Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen for her wedding to the Dothraki horselord Khal Drogo, which led to a complete disaster. Viserys was already irked by Mopatis presenting Daemon as Aegon the Sixth, saved from the Sack, and my presence in Stark colors didn't help. To make matters worse, some sellsword captain gave Blackfyre, the Targaryen ancestral sword, to Daenerys as a wedding gift, and another sellsword gave Drogo another Valyrian steel sword; these gifts may have been the final push to drive Viserys over the edge.

"He stole Blackfyre and murdered his new goodbrother, then he rushed at me with blood in his eyes, intending to punish House Stark for our part in his family's fall from grace. Fortunately, he was a terrible swordsman, and I killed him with ease and took this sword from him." With that, Jon hefted Blackfyre by the hilt and passed it to Robb. "In the mayhem that followed, we saved the most important of the presents: Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel arakh that Daemon has, and three dragon eggs; and, Daemon dragged his newfound aunt with us onto the ship. After that, we returned to Westeros and you know the rest. Aunt Daenerys, meet the Starks."


	28. Chapter 28 - Roose Bolton I

Author's Notes: Sorry I've dropped down to _Inheritance_ fic uploading speed, but I've been suffering from writers' block, charting out the next arc of this story, and beginning a new semester of University. Plus, some of y'all led me onto rabbit trails that got me to read Dragons of Ice and Fire and that one fic with Others of ice and fire. So, here's a shorter chapter that will pop open a whole nother can of worms.

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**Chapter 28 - Roose Bolton I**

For several months now, Domeric had been plotting to secretly meet his bastard half-brother, Ramsay, and Roose had known all along. Oh, he acted like he didn't know his trueborn son was corresponding with Ramsay, but he had read every letter Domeric wrote before Maester Uthor sent it along and every note Ramsay scrawled before Maester Uthor gave it to Domeric. If he needed to, Roose would order Uthor alter the messages, but that could interfere with his little experiment.

Many years ago, Roose had read a Maester's treatise discussing nature and nurture, how some traits tended to be inherited from the progenitor and some learned from the environment. When the miller's wife came to the Dreadfort asking for help raising his bastard, Roose had seen the perfect opportunity to see exactly how true the Maester's hypothesis was. Heke had been told to raise Ramsay as though he was a trueborn Bolton, and the noxious-smelling man had performed excellently.

According to the reports Roose had received, Ramsay lived in a state of savage hedonism, taking his bloody pleasure by hunting maidens through the woods before feeding them to his dogs. With a little work, Roose expected Ramsay could be turned into a Red Hand to ensure Domeric's lands were peaceful. And, when the Starks showed weakness, the ice-blood of the Red Kings might become rulers of the North again.

As Roose sat in his solar, reading his letters, he realized that their time might be soon at hand. Lord Stark may have been born in the North, but his being raised by the Andals in the Vale had polluted his mind with delusions of honor. Also, reports from Winterfell told of how Eddard had buggered off to White Harbor with his own bastard, before said bastard had sailed off to Essos, and Ned had left his son to act as Warden in his stead. If Roose acted quickly, he might be able to exploit the rift between Eddard and his bastard and Lady Stark and Robb; her disdain for Jon Snow's being raised in Winterfell was legendary. Or, at the very least his trueborn son might find himself a proper bride, one who would be willing to overlook the screams of agony that occasionally wafted through the Dreadfort.

Lord Bolton could hear such screams now, as Domeric was punishing a poacher who had shot one of Roose's deer. Normally, Roose would punish such an act by taking the poacher's hand, but Domeric was feeling generous: he would only take the fingers the poacher had used to draw the arrow that had killed the white hart. By the way the screams had tapered off into soft whimpering sobs, Roose figured that Domeric had finished peeling the flesh from the poacher's fingers and was reaching for the pincers to pry the exposed third-knucklebones from the three mutilated fingers. Roose chuckled as he admired the sounds of his firstborn's artistry; Domeric's time in the Vale hadn't suppressed any of the Red Kings' ice-blood, only given the heir of Bolton a flair for the elegant.

A few minutes later, Roose heard his heir knock on the solar door and bade him enter; when Domeric was seated, he said, "Son, I know you have been plotting to visit your half-brother; Maester Uthor tells me the two of you have been corresponding frequently and that he has just invited you to come to the Weeping Water to talk. You are going to send him a letter telling him that you have changed your mind and are inviting him to the Dreadfort so he can ride with you to Winterfell for when the King arrives. While you are there, see if the Starks are weak enough for us to take the North yet, or if we have to endure the wolfspawn longer. Also, you are old enough that you should marry soon. Inquire among the lords who will be there to lick their king's feet, and you may find a match that will spread our influence further."

Domeric shrunk into his chair as Roose told how he knew of his plans, then he began grinning as he heard that the rise of Bolton might be nigh; he regained control of his emotion, blanked his face, and said, "Dacey Mormont could be a good match; she is a touch old, but she is the heiress of Bear Island and Longclaw. If I were to wed her, it would be a shame if she and her mother died fending off an attack by Wildlings or Ironborn, but those things happen and I would, as her widower, have an obligation to wed my goodsisters to men who I had faith in, and the northwest coast would be under our control. I could then find an heiress in who would have pity on me, and increase our power further." Roose smiled as he listened to his son discussing his plans for the return of the Red Kings of the North; the ice-blood truly was strong in him.

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Radeisth: No plans on Faceless wolves; Jon's time as Lord Commander didn't give him much knowledge about arranging marriage contracts, so that would be up to Ned.

AdventWolf: Yes, Jon knows that Joffrey is not a true Baratheon; note that he recommended Dany be married to Robert's oldest son without naming Joffrey specifically.

Pennsylvania and others: No, Dany will not die soon. Death may be a sweet mercy compared to some of the fates I am considering for her, but she will not die anytime soon ITTL.


End file.
